


A Very Miraculous Christmas

by tptplayer5701



Series: "Mind Games"-verse [42]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Alien Cultural Differences, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Butterfly Miraculous, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Party, Dementia, Dog Miraculous, Dragon Kagami Tsurugi | Ryuko, Family, Family Fluff, Fox Alya Césaire | Rena Rouge, Friendship, Good Parent Emilie Agreste, Good Parents Sabine Cheng & Tom Dupain, Grief/Mourning, Hanukkah, Horse Max Kanté | Pegasus, Hurt/Comfort, Identity Reveal, Miraculous Holder Félix Graham de Vanily, Miraculous Holder Rose Lavillant, Miraculous Holder Sabrina Raincomprix, Office Party, Original Miraculous, Pig Miraculous, Post-Hawk Moth Defeat, Skiing, Snake Luka Couffaine | Viperion, Snowball Fight, Tiger Juleka Couffaine, Turtle Nino Lahiffe | Carapace, Veterans, World War II
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-05
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-18 13:34:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 21,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29858850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tptplayer5701/pseuds/tptplayer5701
Summary: A "Mind Games"-verse Anthology:Marinette let out a breath, sighing contently as she looked around the Mansion’s dining room at all of her friends. Taking in the faces around the table, she shook her head in wonderment: everything was so different now than last year. Last Christmas no one else had been living at the Mansion, and they hadn’t known about a third of those in this room. But after the year they’d had, she couldn’t imagine trying to keep all of this together without them.Adrien coughed. “I was just wondering… what’s your best Christmas memory?”She smiled. “Actually, every Christmas ends up better than the one before! I think this year will be better than last – and next year will be even better still.” She placed her hand on his cheek. “After all, this year we have your Mom back; next year… who knows what next year will bring?” She wrapped her arms around him, resting her head on his chest. “I’m just happy to be sharing this Christmas with you.”
Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir & Emilie Agreste, Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir & Le Gorille | Adrien Agreste's Bodyguard, Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir & Sabine Cheng, Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir & Tom Dupain, Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Alix Kubdel & Jalil Kubdel, Alix Kubdel & Jalil Kubdel & Mr. Kubdel, Alya Césaire & Trixx, Alya Césaire/Nino Lahiffe, Anarka Couffaine & Juleka Couffaine & Luka Couffaine, Anarka Couffaine & Kagami Tsurugi, Bridgette & Amélie Graham de Vanily, Bridgette & Félix Graham de Vanily, Chloé Bourgeois & Emilie Agreste, Chloé Bourgeois & Sabrina Raincomprix, Daizzi & Rose Lavillant, Emilie Agreste & Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Emilie Agreste & Sabine Cheng, Félix Graham de Vanily & Amélie Graham de Vanily, Félix Graham de Vanily & Barkk, Juleka Couffaine & Kagami Tsurugi, Juleka Couffaine & Luka Couffaine, Juleka Couffaine & Luka Couffaine & Rose Lavillant, Juleka Couffaine & Roarr, Juleka Couffaine/Rose Lavillant, Kagami Tsurugi & Longg, Luka Couffaine & Sass, Luka Couffaine/Kagami Tsurugi, Marc Anciel/Nathaniel Kurtzberg, Master Fu/Marianne Lenoir, Max Kanté & Roger Raincomprix, Max Kanté/Sabrina Raincomprix, Nathaniel Kurtzberg & Orikko, Nino Lahiffe & Wayzz, Roger Raincomprix & Lt. Luc Ramus, Roger Raincomprix & Original Character(s), Roger Raincomprix & Sabrina Raincomprix, Rose Lavillant & Kagami Tsurugi, Sabine Cheng & Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Sabine Cheng/Tom Dupain
Series: "Mind Games"-verse [42]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1666807
Comments: 38
Kudos: 17





	1. The Agreste Mansion

**Author's Note:**

> Just to be up-front, I have two notes with this one. First, I didn’t include every group/pairing/interaction that I could have (if I did, this thing could last until next Christmas!). Maybe next year I’ll take one of those prompt lists and do a different chapter for each group/couple based on that (but thanks to “time dilation” that will probably be a “Christmas in July”!). Second, while all of these happen during December, they aren’t in chronological order since 6 are on Christmas Eve and I wanted to spread them out a little more.

Marinette let out a breath, sighing contently as she looked around the Mansion’s dining room at all of her friends. They had decided not to invite _everyone_ for this particular Christmas party – just those living there and their “Select Seven” – and were going to have another party with everyone later in the month. But even with that smaller list of invitees, they had still needed to push together two long tables just to accommodate them all. Taking in the faces around the table, she shook her head in wonderment: everything was so different now than last year. Last Christmas no one else had been living at the Mansion, and they hadn’t known about a third of those in this room. But after the year they’d had, she couldn’t imagine trying to keep all of this together without them.

At the head of the table sat Master Fu, having only returned a few days ago from delving through the Egyptian Temple’s Atlantean archives. Pablo and Julia had claimed the chairs next to Fu and Marianne respectively. Pablo and Fu appeared deep in conversation about something, though Marinette couldn’t hear what they were saying. Julia and Marianne both smiled fondly while watching Marco play on the floor with Bee-atrice and Gorilla, sitting in the center of his new wooden train set. Mettli and Atsaa were on either end of the train, pushing it along while Bee-atrice chased it around, yipping happily, Dorreen sitting on her back. Marco clapped animatedly, giggling. Even the corner of Gorilla’s mouth turned up in amusement as Dorreen tossed macaroons at Marco. Julia clasped her hands over her stomach and leaned over to whisper something to Marianne. Marianne let out a light laugh that turned into a yawn. Marinette flushed guiltily. Although she had helped in the kitchen for a few hours earlier and brought half the bakery’s supply of pastries, Marianne had been on her feet most of the day, preparing most of the food herself with only a little assistance from Mira and Pedro.

She would have to remind Adrien to give Marianne a Christmas bonus; a simple handmade sweater just wasn’t enough.

Adrien squeezed Marinette’s hand, drawing her attention back to him. “Are you still there, Bug?” he asked softly.

“Yeah,” she assured him, leaning into his side. He draped his arm over her shoulder so his hand rested on her stomach. She wrapped her arm around his back and took a tiny sip of her wine. “Just thinking about how much different this is from last Christmas.”

He hummed regretfully. “Sorry I wasn’t much in the holiday spirit last year,” he apologized, his lips twisting down in guilt.

“Don’t be,” she replied, squeezing him and resting her cheek on his shoulder. “With all the stress from your father, and the trial, and the business… I think we both needed the time to just rest last year.”

He nodded, sighing heavily. “That and I just didn’t feel like celebrating very much then. But now…” He nodded down the table to where Emilie sat between Chloe and Sabrina, chatting animatedly with Mira and Lise across the table. Sensing them looking her way, Emilie glanced over at them and smiled happily. Adrien pressed his lips to Marinette’s forehead. “Don’t get me wrong, Christmas with your parents was amazing–”

“–but it’s not the same as having family of your own,” Marinette finished.

He gave her a small smile. “I did have family then – Nino and Alya, Gorilla… you – but it feels so much different with Mom back.”

Sitting in front of Marinette on the table, Tikki clapped her paws animatedly. “This party is spectacular!” she gushed. “We never had parties like this in Tibet!”

“Never?” Marinette asked, surprised.

Tikki shook her head. “The Guardians had feasts on occasion, but not all of the Kwamis would be out when they happened. Not all of them are here _now_ , of course, but still. And the last time we had Guardians and Holders and Kwamis from three different orders together for something like this was probably Atlantis!”

Plagg snorted into his Brie. “Please, Sugar Cube,” he retorted, rolling his eyes. “You’re just happy because they gave you an entire bûche de Noël all to yourself!”

Tikki sniffed. “That’s only part of the reason!”

Marinette giggled.

“You are way too nice, girl!” Alya observed, leaning over and whispering into Marinette’s ear.

Marinette shrugged. “I can’t help it.”

Alya hummed contemplatively. “So is there any chance _I_ could get my own bûche de Noël?” she asked, smirking.

Marinette chuckled. “Well, you eat more than just sweets, so…”

“Besides,” Nino interjected, poking Alya in the side so she squirmed, “you’re already sweet enough as it is, babe!”

“Oh, _I_ see how it is,” Alya huffed, folding her arms in a pout, though Marinette could see a mischievous glint in her eye. “You want to keep all the desserts for yourself!” She swiped his plate of cake out from in front of him and took a bite.

“Babe,” he whined, reaching for his plate.

“Mmm, so good!” Alya taunted him, holding it out away from him and taking another bite.

He lunged for the cake, but only managed to get a dollop of frosting on his finger. Alya started laughing, and he stuck his finger in her mouth. Her eyes went wide in surprise and she glared at him. Nino laughed, wagging his eyebrows at her.

“I think you’ve been taking lessons from the twins,” Marinette observed, raising an eyebrow dubiously as she watched their antics.

“You have no idea,” Nino groaned, giving up on his cake and leaning back into his chair, putting his hand on Alya’s shoulder. “Between Chris and the twins, the last few weeks have been positively insane!”

“I love all of them,” Alya agreed, slumping back into Nino’s chest and returning his dessert, “but they have been bouncing off the walls all month! Christmas honestly can’t come fast enough for them.”

“That’s why we’re getting away for a few days over the break,” Nino confirmed, nodding. “For our own sanity!”

“We’re going skiing in the mountains!” Alya explained. “Three days, four nights, two of us, no siblings.”

“That sounds like fun!” Marinette commented.

“Playing around in the snow will be awesome!” cheered Trixx, picking out another sausage link from the plate on the table. He grinned at Alya. “You know, the ice power-up can give you skis, not just skates…”

“You and your snow,” Wayzz grumbled, giving Trixx a disappointed look.

Trixx rolled his eyes. “As if you didn’t give Kame the idea to use his shield as a _sled_!”

Nino raised his eyebrows in surprise. “That’s an awesome idea, dude!”

Wayzz pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes at Trixx. “Now you started something…”

“Afraid we’ll be faster than you?” Alya asked, smirking.

Wayzz folded his arms. “Do not forget the tortoise and the hare,” he warned.

“Well, I’m a fox,” Trixx shot back.

Marinette giggled, listening to their banter. Halfway down the table, Max and Victor seemed to be in the middle of a discussion about Volpine technology, though she only caught snatches of their conversation. Noticing her interest, Sabrina met Marinette’s gaze and rolled her eyes affectionately. Marinette stifled a laugh. Of all their new friends, Victor had to be the most surprising, even _if_ they’d had old-Chloe’s warning about the existence of aliens. And yet, in spite of the misunderstanding when they had first met him, Victor had proven himself to be trustworthy and deserving of his place with the Heroes of Paris. Adrien’s hand drifted down to her hip, and she looked up at him, startled. Seeing the look in his eyes she smirked impishly. “Am I not paying enough attention to you, Kitty?” she purred, fluttering her eyelashes at him.

Adrien’s mouth opened and shut dumbly. “Umm…” he coughed. “I was just wondering… what’s your best Christmas memory?”

She hummed thoughtfully. “I don’t know – I have so many.” His shoulders slumped. Marinette kissed the corner of his mouth. “But I think my favorite memory was last year: Christmas dinner with my parents… singing Christmas carols while you played piano… you staying at my house Christmas Eve…” She dropped her voice to a whisper. “You waking me up early on Christmas morning so we could open presents.”

Adrien’s eyes widened in surprise. “After the last few years, that’s my favorite, too,” he admitted, holding her close. “But I would have thought you’d have better memories from when you were younger.”

She smiled. “Actually, every Christmas ends up better than the one before! I think this year will be better than last – and next year will be even better still.” She placed her hand on his cheek. “After all, this year we have your Mom back; next year… who knows what next year will bring?” She wrapped her arms around him, resting her head on his chest. “I’m just happy to be sharing this Christmas with you.”


	2. Nath and Marc

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hanukkah with the Kurtzbergs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hanukkah began on December 10 in 2020, so that gives the timing for this chapter.

“Have I told you about the time I snuck into Paris through the sewer system, _Enkel_?” [“Grandson”]

Nath nodded, his mouth setting into a firm line, and sighed heavily. He and his grandfather sat in the apartment’s living room, Opa in his accustomed armchair and Nath on the couch, as they normally did when Opa came over. From the kitchen came the hissing of oil as his mother fried the latkes. Surreptitiously he glanced down as his watch: Marc should arrive anytime.

“It was 1943,” Opa began, his eyes closing as he remembered the story. “The Allies had just warned us that the invasion was about to begin, and I went in to make connections with the Liberation Committees.” His voice trailed off, and Nath almost went over to nudge him, in case he’d fallen asleep. Opa started, his eyes popping open, and cleared his throat. “Oh, now where was I?”

“Paris, 1943,” Nath supplied.

“Ah, yes…” Opa mused. “That was the time I was almost caught by a patrol and pretended to be a drunk and tossed a wine bottle at the ground in front of them! That _Unteroffizier_ almost jumped to the moon!” [“Under-Officer” – equivalent to US “Sergeant”]

Nath smiled in amusement in spite of himself; his pocket vibrated with Orikko’s silent laughter. This was a new version of the Paris story. But as Opa started to return to the familiar story beats, he let out a breath, tuning it out. Opa was just getting to the part where he flew into the Majestic Hotel when the doorbell rang. Before his mother could say anything from the kitchen, Nath immediately jumped up from the couch. “I’ll get it!”

Opa stared after him, startled, as he raced to the front door.

Nath opened the door to find Marc with his finger still poised over the buzzer and pulled him into a quick hug. “Hey! Thanks for coming.”

“Wouldn’t miss it!” Marc replied with a smile. “Your mom’s a good cook!” He handed Nath an envelope. “For day one; Hanukkah means a different gift every day for eight days, right?”

Nath nodded, grinning. “You don’t have to do the whole eight gifts thing, but that’s the tradition,” he acknowledged, ushering Marc into the living room. “Have you met my Opa Kurtzberg yet?” he asked, dragging him across to stand in front of the armchair.

Marc shook his head. “I don’t think so,” he admitted, holding out his hand. “It’s nice to meet you, sir.”

“Ach, so this is your friend the writer?” his grandfather asked curiously, taking the offered hand.

“ _Ja, Opa_ ,” Nath told him. “Marc and I have a comic book we publish together: I draw; Marc writes… Don’t you remember?”

“Did you tell me about it?” Opa pursed his lips in thought. “Perhaps you did,” he admitted. “I just… hmm.” He chuckled. “But have I told you about the comic strip I published back in Stuttgart before the War?”

“You’re an artist, sir?” Marc asked, eyes widening in surprise.

“ _Ja_.” Opa nodded, smiling at the memory. “But I only published the one. It was published right after I left to sneak over the border.”

“Didn’t you say that strip was the _reason_ you had to run?” Nath asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Did I say that?” Opa cocked his head, humming in confusion. “Yes, I suppose that’s how it happened… It was a political cartoon, you see.”

“I can already see the problem,” Marc observed wryly.

“No you can’t,” warned Nath, shaking his head and stifling a smirk. “What _was_ the cartoon?”

Opa grinned cheekily. “It was Himmler as a tiny yapping dog standing in a pool of urine. Hitler held his leash with one hand and tried to hide the Star of David on his chest with the other.”

Marc’s jaw dropped and he blinked several times. “You _didn’t_ … That took guts!”

Nath grinned proudly. “That’s my Opa!”

“Well,” his grandfather demurred, grimacing sheepishly, “I wasn’t quite brave enough to stick around and see what would happen! The moment the paper agreed to publish it, I knew the SS would try to arrest me, so I started planning a way out.”

“How did you escape?” asked Marc, eyes wide.

“I walked,” he replied, eyes twinkling. “Oh, not _all_ of it,” he added quickly. “I drove most of the way – late at night and with the lights off, hoping and praying that a patrol wouldn’t stop me. Then I walked the last few kilometers up to the border crossing.”

“What happened then, Opa?” Nath prompted, smiling. Which version would he tell today?

“It was the middle of a moonless night, and I had been lucky up to then, but that’s when my luck ran out,” Opa replied, shuddering. “I thought they had me for sure. I was hiding behind a stone wall, meters from the border. In front of me was a small German detachment, standing in front of a Panzer with the Iron Cross painted on its front armor. One of the soldiers walked toward my location – a Hauptmann, I think, from the insignia on his hat. He had a medieval broadsword on his belt and held an iron helm under his arm. He looked me in the eye, and I knew I was about to die.” He paused dramatically. “And then he pointed the opposite direction and shouted ‘Halten!’ His men looked that way, and I ran. It felt like it took hours to cross the no-man’s land between the German and French sides of the border, and the whole time I expected a bullet in the head.”

“He let you go?” asked Marc. “Just like that?”

Nath’s grandfather nodded adamantly. “ _Genau_.” [“Precisely”]

Nath smiled in amusement, but his smile cracked. Marc gave him a concerned look, cocking his head and furrowing his brows, and Nath nodded toward the kitchen. “Opa, I’m going to see if Mom needs help,” he announced, getting up. Marc followed him out of the room, quiet but with his mouth half-open as if with a question. In the kitchen Nath’s mother had just removed the last batch of latkes from the pan, transferring them to a plate covered in paper towels to drain the excess oil. At the moment she was slicing the brisket but looked up when they entered.

“Marc! So good of you to come tonight!” she called, pulling him into a quick hug. “Dinner is almost ready, if the two of you could just set the table. And go easy on the sufganiyot; those are for dessert!”

“So what was the look for?” Marc asked once they were more alone in the dining half of the room, grabbing the water glasses of the sideboard and setting them at each place on the table.

Nath grabbed the stack of plates and started setting the table. “Opa sometimes gets confused,” he explained quietly, a lump in his throat. “Sometimes the soldier who let him go is just a soldier, but sometimes he’s wearing a full medieval suit of armor, almost like something from a Ren Fair. Sometimes he gets other details mixed up – it’s been a tank, a half-track, or a regular truck before.”

“Oh…” Marc trailed off, squeezing Nath’s shoulder sympathetically. “Dementia?” Nath’s shoulders slumped. “I’m sorry… I know what it’s like: my _Mémé_ didn’t recognize anyone at the end.”

Nath sniffled, shoving his hand into his pocket to find Orikko, his fingers brushing the old dreidel Opa had given him years ago. “He has so many awesome stories from the war!” he insisted, staring into the light on the menorah in the center of the table. “After escaping Germany he joined a Maquis cell as part of La Resistance and fought the Nazis for four years before the liberation of France. But the last few years his stories have been getting confused. Ever since Hawk Moth first showed up, butterflies have been appearing in more and more of his stories – past and present getting jumbled is just another part of the disease.” He snorted. “But on that note, why don’t you open your present?” he suggested, picking up a manila envelope and handing it to Marc.

Marc unsealed the envelope and pulled out two sheets of paper. On the first one was a drawing of a man with brilliant red hair and a bright blue beret, holding a short sword with a Star of David pommel. Under the picture was the caption “Der Davidstern” [“The Star of David”]. The second drawing was of a medieval knight with a black cross on the breastplate. This one was captioned “Der Deutscher Ritter” [“The German Knight”].

“I figured maybe we could incorporate a new hero and villain into our next volume,” Nath explained, flushing slightly.

Marc held the picture of Davidstern up to examine it closer in the light. “This is brilliant,” he breathed. “But what would he do?”

Nath shrugged noncommittally. “I figured I’d leave that for _you_ to decide,” he replied. “I… was actually inspired by one of Opa’s more… um… _fantastical_ stories.”

Marc hummed, his brows furrowed in thought. “You know,” he mused, “he could fit in great as a new ally for Ladybug and Cat Noir: the mysterious figure who strikes from the shadows!” He grinned sheepishly and put a hand on the back of his head. “This makes _my_ gift look silly by comparison,” he admitted.

Nath cocked his head and opened the envelope Marc had given him to find a download code for a new graphic design program. “Sweet!” he enthused, giving Marc a hug. “The program I use right now just isn’t that easy to use; I’ve heard this one is practically the same as using pencil and paper. Thank you!”

“Oh, good: the table’s set!” Nath’s mother placed the brisket in the center of the table, right in front of the menorah. “Nath, honey, could you go and help Opa in here? Then, Marc, if you can fetch the toppings, we can eat!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have way too much experience with dementia; I’ve had veterans tell me the same stories over and over because they can’t remember they already told it, or with slight variations, mixing up elements.


	3. American Miraculous Team

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joyous and solemn moments in Peru

Julia looked around her temple’s large ground floor dining room fondly. In one corner Dan had set an enormous Christmas tree (he still hadn’t explained where he found it or how he got it in, though Julia suspected Pegasus), which flickered with festive colored lights. Several of the Kwamis had affixed strings of lights to the walls near the ceiling, giving the room a pleasant glow. The Kwamis themselves flitted about the room, giggling and chattering away, sneaking mouthfuls of food when no one was looking. The temple’s kitchen staff had outdone themselves with the spread of food for this _fiesta de Navidad_. Tamales, tostones, buñuelos, panettone, arroz con leche, all in addition to the enormous lechon at the center of the meal… In the last year, Julia had spent as much time in Paris as in Peru, and had seen more miraculous temples than she had thought possible. But this one was still her home. Her hand drifted down to her stomach. Her heart was still here.

On the far side of the room, Pablo stood with Dan and Luis, a cup of coquito in his hand. Over the music pumping out of the radio, she could hear the three of them discussing Dan’s time in _los Estados_. It had taken quite a while for the clan elders to settle on a new candidate to receive the Bear Miraculous – that they had lost it had complicated matters all too much. The elders had almost rioted on learning of its loss, and especially when she had sent word back of the emergence of the “Bearator” who was abusing their legacy. But Dan had persevered and returned with a new prospective miraculous holder only a month ago, who was even now starting to fit in with the rest of the group.

The girl in question, Ruth, had started near the wall at the beginning of the party, still unsure of herself and overwhelmed by the experience of the temple. That, however, had ended quickly when Lise walked straight over to her, introduced herself, and dragged her over to where Hector and Sofia, the other two newest members of the temple family. The four teens now sat at a table near the buffet. Ruth and Hector watched Lise with interest as she described Paris – especially the way that the Heroes of Paris would go on regular patrols, something that the American team rarely did.

“Was it on one of those patrols that you found the Lynx Miraculous?” Ruth asked eagerly.

Lise grinned but shook her head. “Nope; that actually happened when I was at the park with Marco! He met a little girl who said she had a ‘fairy,’ and she basically described a Kwami. Then Russa went to look, and we convinced the kid to trade us the miraculous.”

Pounss, the Lynx Kwami, looked up from her spot curled up on Lise’s shoulder. “I don’t _remember_ the last time I saw a temple like this!” she enthused, nibbling on a piece of lechon bigger than her head. “It must have been Atlantis!”

On Lise’s opposite shoulder, Russa giggled. “I told you that you’d like it here!”

Julia was pulled back to her immediate surroundings by a tug on her arm. “ _Mama_ ,” Marco whined, pointing at the dessert table “Can I have arroz con leche?”

Julia smiled fondly. “Finish off your lechon first, _hijo_ ,” she instructed him before cutting his meat into smaller pieces with his fork.

“But I don’t _want_ lechon!” he huffed, folding his arms in a pout.

“Five more bites, then you can have arroz,” she told him.

“No.”

Mettli rolled her eyes. “I guess _I_ ’ll have to eat it,” the Kwami warned him, popping a piece in her mouth. “Mmmm, you don’t know what you’re missing, _’chacho_.”

Marco gasped, staring at her, before grabbing a handful of lechon and stuffing it in his mouth. “Mine!”

“He has just gotten so _big_ this year!” Paola gushed from the other side of the table.

“We don’t see him for months, and suddenly he’s such a big boy,” agreed Maria with a nod. She smiled down at Marco, who had pushed his plate aside and was playing with his new Taureau Dechaine action figure, play-fighting with Mettli. Maria picked up the Geber figure, and she and Mettli teamed up against Marco.

“He must have grown at least half a meter!” teased Yohana. “What are you feeding this child?”

“Some days, everything that’s not nailed down!” Julia joked back. “He would eat his weight in pastries if I didn’t stop him – Ladybug’s _Mama_ actively encourages him. And he has outgrown his clothes completely _twice_ in the eight months we’ve been in Paris.”

Paola stood up from the table. “I’m going to get something to drink. Would you like some coquito?”

Julia shook her head, cradling her stomach. “Just water for me, thanks.”

Paola started and eyed her suspiciously, her gaze trailing down to Julia’s hands before returning to her face. “No…” She squealed excitedly and dropped back into her seat, staring at Julia intensely. “How far along?”

Maria furrowed her brows in confusion, gaze shifting between the two women. “What are you talking about?”

Yohana examined Julia more closely and nodded, beaming from ear to ear. “Of course! You’re positively glowing, my dear!”

Julia sighed in resignation and gave her friends a warm smile. “Marco is going to be a big brother this year.”

Maria squealed, clapping her hands animatedly. “¡ _Felicidades_! How exciting!”

“ _Parabéns_ ,” Paola agreed, taking Julia’s hand and squeezing it.

Julia felt her cheeks redden.

“Do you know if it’s a boy or a girl yet?” asked Maria.

Julia shook her head. “We decided to wait and be surprised. Pablo’s hoping for a girl, though.”

Paola pursed her lips. “Have you been to the doctor yet?”

“Not yet,” she admitted, flushing. “We have an appointment for January.”

“I’m holding you to that,” Paola warned, the corner of her lips turning up in amusement.

Julia smirked. “It turned out fine last time, remember?”

Paola’s eyes widened. “That was all you, _chica_ …”

“So what does this mean for your mission in Paris?” Yohana asked seriously, putting her hand over Paola’s.

Julia shrugged noncommittally. “I don’t think it’s right to leave without making _any_ progress to recover either of our miraculous,” she admitted. “But Pablo wants me to be careful. So… for now I’m staying in Paris, but I’m going to start taking it easier.”

“Well, if you ever need me, I’ll be there in an instant,” Paola promised solemnly. Maria nodded enthusiastically and put her hand on top of Yohana’s. Paola giggled. “That’s _always_ true… but more so now!”

Julia smiled affectionately. “ _Gracias_. I’m glad you have my back!”

A hand squeezed Julia’s shoulder, and without looking she put her free hand over it. “Are you ready, _mi amor_?” asked Pablo, kneeling next to her chair.

“Are you?” Julia asked in return, looking up and giving him a quick peck on the lips.

“Yeah, _are_ you ready, _Papai_?” asked Paola, arching an eyebrow at him mirthfully.

Pablo gave Julia a confused look. “I thought we were planning to wait on telling everyone.”

“Hey, don’t look at _me_ ,” she protested. “She figured it out on her own!”

Pablo chuckled and shook his head ruefully before straightening up and calling for everyone’s attention. Julia pushed her chair out and rose next to him, taking his hand in her own. He nodded, squeezing her hand encouragingly.

Julia cleared her throat. “¡ _Feliz Navidad_!” She smiled as the rest of the crowd answered. “This has been quite an exciting year, and in many ways it has been a good one! We met our counterparts all over the world and made new friends in Europe and Africa, and even as far as Australia. We have been able to work together in ways I never thought were possible. No longer is the American Miraculous Team limited to helping people and preserving balance in Latin America; we have been all over the world. And we even _added_ another miraculous to our team!” She nodded to Pounss with a smile. “A couple of new faces are here, as well.

“At the same time,” she continued sadly, “a few faces are missing. It has been a difficult year for us. The loss of Rexx and Ursaa leaves a hole that will not be filled until we can recover their miraculous.” Mettli’s jaw clenched, her eyes flashing with pain. “Now that the Bear has been used, it is only a matter of time before we will track it down and take back both our missing miraculous. But we aren’t here just to remember them,” she added. “For now, we remember Alan and John, the two miraculous users we lost this year.” She paused for a moment when Ruth sniffled. “And also Guardian Diego, who doubtless gave his memories and his life to preserve our secrets. We will miss them, but their sacrifices were not in vain. We will honor their legacy, even as we mourn their loss. Now raise your glasses with me: to Alan… to John… and to Diego.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are a few new characters in this chapter, the majority of whom are members of the American Miraculous Team (the others are guardians or trainees). All of these characters are included in the [“Mind Games”-verse Wiki](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28649532/chapters/70394415) if you want more information!


	4. The Outsiders

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jalil brings a couple friends "home for the holiday"

Pedro pulled his coat closer against the cold air as he walked down the Mansion’s driveway, his breath misting in front of his mouth, his two companions on either side. The new scarf from Marinette was incredibly warm against the chill in the air. A thin layer of freshly-fallen snow crunched under his boots. Not for the first time was he glad that he had allowed the others to persuade him not to wear his acolyte robes at all times. He was no longer a member of the Order; why should he be bound by their strictures? Jeans and a long-sleeved shirt were far more appropriate for this weather. Although now that he thought about it, why _did_ the Dark Acolytes insist on wearing robes in the dead of winter, despite their temple being hidden inside a mountain? He had never really understood the reasoning behind that decision, even if he had accepted it at the time.

He had accepted a lot of things just because the Acolytes had said them.

How wrong he had been.

But what of Marta and Felipe and the rest? They still accepted what the Acolytes told them at face value. They didn’t realize how badly they were being misled. And now he had to fight them on a regular basis, ironically to prevent them from doing the very thing they feared!

He was finally stirred out of his dark thoughts by a question from one of his companions. “So explain this ‘Christmas’ to me again, please,” requested Victor, who had cast his normal human illusion around himself. “Adrien’s description this morning made almost no sense.”

“Christmas…” Jalil mused slowly, stroking his chin, thumbing the golden mask knitted to the end of his own scarf. “A pagan festival celebrating the winter solstice which was co-opted by the Christian religion as a celebration of their god’s miraculous birth. A hodgepodge of pagan, Christian, and secular traditions combined into a single vaguely-unified holiday.”

Victor blinked. “That… actually put Adrien’s explanation into a much better light. Thank you.”

“Um… you’re welcome?” Jalil cocked his head in confusion.

Pedro chuckled. “Couldn’t the Christians just as easily say that the secular traditions are a co-opting of the ‘celebration of their god’s miraculous birth’?” he pointed out. Jalil shrugged noncommittally. “Christmas _is_ a religious holiday, yes,” Pedro explained, turning to Victor. “But these days it’s more like an opportunity to spend time with friends and family, give gifts, and share a meal together.”

Victor bobbed his head in a nod. “I see. And that is why we are going to your father’s apartment?” he asked, turning to Jalil.

“That would be why,” Jalil agreed with a nod. His lips turned down into a frown, staring down at the ground.

Pedro could sympathize: for the last six months, Jalil had been living at the Mansion so the Heroes of Paris could keep an eye on him, just in case the ancient mage sharing his mind reasserted himself. While Jalil had seen his father since then, he hadn’t been back to the apartment in that time. And even though the Heroes of Paris trusted that Jalil was in control, they were still taking precautions. Pedro let out a breath: it was the same for all three of them, he supposed. All of them were only partially trusted. And while Pedro could understand their caution, it did still hurt – though they seemed to trust him more than the other two now.

“What is this substance?” asked Victor, bending over to examine the ground. “It appears to be a form of water.”

“What, the snow?” Pedro asked, snorting. “Don’t tell me you don’t have snow on your planet!”

“It’s frozen water,” Jalil told Victor. “When it freezes in the atmosphere, it forms into these unique shapes. It has to be cold enough for the snow to fall and not melt on reaching the ground.”

“Ah…” Victor furrowed his brows. “My planet is, I think, cold enough, but we just don’t have snow falling on our planet.”

“Huh.” Jalil cocked his head. “Is it a quirk of the atmosphere? Do you even _have_ water vapor?”

“Of course there’s water!” Victor insisted, bobbing his head. “But the water normally comes up from below, rather than falling from the sky.”

“Well, here you go,” Pedro announced, spreading his arms. “Your first snow.”

“I remember growing up Alix and I would have snowball fights all the time,” Jalil commented with a wistful smile. “That was before she started playing softball, though; we only did it once _after_ that, and she broke my glasses!”

“Fighting with snow?” Victor asked, confused.

Pedro picked up a handful of the fresh snow and squeezed it together into a tight ball. “This is a snowball.” He threw it at a tree, where it burst apart in a spray of white powder. “And that is what happens when you get hit with one!”

Victor crouched down and pushed a bunch of snow together into a lump, the action looking strange with his human fingers partially disappearing where the snowball cut them off – his own fingers weren’t as long as proportionate human fingers would be. The alien picked up the misshapen lump and hurled it at Jalil, hitting him in the back of his jacket. With a grin, Jalil quickly scooped up some snow, packed it, and whipped it back at Victor. The alien ducked, and the snowball flew over his head, splattering against a tree. Victor scooped up another handful of snow and lobbed it in Pedro’s direction, missing him and hitting Jalil.

Pedro crouched down and formed two snowballs before chucking one at each of his companions. The first snowball disappeared into Victor’s stomach, and his illusion shimmered. Jalil jumped to one side to avoid the other snowball, taking aim wildly with his own projectile in midair. The snowball sailed just over Victor’s head but splattered on thin air. Victor’s eyes widened in surprise, and his human illusion flickered and dropped to reveal his elongated nose as well as his pointed ears, one of which was filled with snow.

Pedro’s eyes widened and he spun his head in all directions, looking for anyone who could have caught the slipup. At dinnertime on Christmas Eve, the street was largely deserted; the only other person on the sidewalk was two blocks down and walking the opposite direction. All the same, there were apartment buildings on both sides of the street with windows, some of which had the blinds pulled up. Could someone be looking? How would they react to finding an alien having a snowball fight? The last thing they needed was _another_ panicked call to the police… He heard Victor yelp behind him, and turned back to find the alien sitting on the ground under the tree and covered in snow. A faint dusting of snow still swirled in the sudden gust of wind that disappeared as Jalil dropped his hand. Pedro raised an eyebrow at him dubiously.

Jalil shrugged. “It was the best I had.”

Victor’s (human) head poked out of the snowdrift and fixed Jalil with a reproachful glare. “I believe that would be considered _cheating_ , correct?”

Jalil chuckled in embarrassment. “Um… sorry. Twice.”

Pedro stifled a smirk as Victor stood up and brushed the snow off of his (non-snowy) clothing. “Maybe we _shouldn’t_ have a snowball fight in the middle of the city!”

Jalil nodded in acquiescence, and Victor pursed his lips, but the three of them continued on in companionable silence for another couple blocks before Jalil extracted a key and ushered them into an apartment building. He knocked on the apartment door once before opening it and calling, “Dad? We’re here!”

A man who looked like an older version of Jalil, with a streak of grey in his red hair, emerged from the direction of the kitchen and pulled Jalil into an awkward hug. “Son, it’s good to see you.” He looked past Jalil at Pedro and Victor. “And these are your friends from the Heroes of Paris?”

Jalil nodded. “Pedro and Victor. My father, Alim.”

Pedro pulled off his gloves and shook Alim’s hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise. And same to–” He froze, head cocked in surprise, as Victor dropped his human illusion.

“Victor is an alien who’s trapped on Earth for now,” Pedro explained as Victor brushed off the snow still clinging to his orange fur and hung his own scarf on a hook to dry. “He’s one of us.”

Alim looked unconvinced.

Jalil rolled his eyes. “Remember, Dad?” he asked, his face suddenly glowing gold. “Weird is normal now?”

Alim started, but nodded and held out a hand to Victor. “Of course. I apologize. I have never met an alien before. You will have to tell me all about your people: have they had contact with Earth before now?”

Victor let out a short bark of laughter. “Why is that _always_ the first question I get?” he asked rhetorically. “And no; as far as I know, I’m the first Volpine to visit your planet.”

Jalil sniffed the air curiously. “What’s that?” he asked in surprise. “It smells good!”

“I figured we’d actually _cook_ Christmas dinner this year,” Alim replied with a smile. “After all, we can’t very well serve our guests takeout!”

Jalil’s eyes widened in fear. “Please tell me _Alix_ didn’t cook it!”

“No; I cooked the turkey,” Alim assured him. “Although Alix did bake a pie for dessert.”

Jalil hummed. “Maybe we shouldn’t eat it, then!”

“Oh, haha,” drawled Alix, poking her head out of the kitchen and sticking her tongue out at Jalil. “What’s up, loser?”

“Brat,” he retorted with some amusement.

“Just for that, maybe I _won’t_ let you have any of my pie!” she taunted him.

“Good!” he shot back, eyes lighting up mischievously. “I prefer that my Christmases end _without_ food poisoning!”

“No one died!”

“No; I only _wished_ I had!”

“Is this normal behavior for your ‘Christmas’?” Victor inquired, giving Pedro a bemused look. Pedro shrugged.

“It is with them,” Alim answered, rubbing his temples.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unfortunately, I picked literally the 2 worst options to explain the meaning of Christmas to an alien, given that one is an intellectual who isn’t overly interested in anything more recent than the pyramids and the other was raised almost from birth in a cult!


	5. The Couffaines

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas dinner on the _Liberty_

Kagami wrapped one arm around Rose and the other around Mira as they walked down the pier toward the _Liberty_. Christmas lights hung from every beam of the ship and wrapped around the railings, lighting up the evening as the sun dipped lower below the cityscape. Although Christmas was still a few days away, Anarka had invited them all over for an early Christmas dinner, before Kagami and Luka would leave for their trip.

“You people really go all-out for the holidays,” observed Mira, nodding appreciatively.

Rose giggled. “That’s all Juleka,” she confided.

Kagami leaned over and whispered conspiratorially, “I’m pretty sure she means that she put Juleka up to it!”

Mira snorted.

“Not _entirely_ …”

Kagami grinned.

When they reached the foot of the gangplank, Daizzi’s head poked out of Rose’s purse and looked around surreptitiously before she floated all the way out, followed by Paxx and Longg. The three Kwamis floated up to hover near their holders’ heads, looking the decorations over. “It’s so pretty!” squealed Daizzi, clapping her paws eagerly. “The colored lights are so much fun!”

“Do you remember that time we were in India?” Longg asked.

Daizzi tapped her chin. “Were we with the guardian with the limp? When all of us were flying around the Taj Mahal together?”

Longg nodded.

“You’ve been lucky,” Paxx observed. “You’ve been with your set this whole time.”

“The Guardians are working to restore your set,” Longg consoled her.

“But in the meantime, you’re with _us_ now!” Daizzi interjected, looping an arm around Paxx’s shoulder.

“Juleka said she would put some treats in the bedroom for you,” Rose told the Kwamis. Daizzi let out an excited giggle before all three floated down toward the waterline and phased through the side of the boat. “That should keep them occupied!” Rose commented to the other two as she led the way up the gangplank onto the boat’s top deck.

“Probably not for _too_ long,” warned Mira, cracking a smile. “Paxx has quite the appetite!”

Seeing Luka sitting on the bench under a blanket and watching them, Kagami released the other two and walked over to him. “No guitar?” she asked curiously.

“It’s a little cold to play up here at the moment,” he replied with a smile, wiggling his gloved fingers lifting the corner of his blanket and patting the bench next to him.

“Should we see if Anarka needs help?” Mira asked, turning to Rose.

Rose nodded. “They probably don’t want an audience!” she stage-whispered, giving Kagami a mischievous grin and bouncing over to the hatch.

As the other two disappeared through the hatch below deck, Kagami looked down at the bench where Luka had indicated and frowned. The bench was bare wood. Instead of sitting down next to him, she pulled the blanket off of him completely, settled into his lap, and covered them both with the blanket, leaning back into his chest.

“You know, I _would_ have shared if you’d asked,” he commented in amusement, wrapping his arms around her.

She hummed. “I know. I was cold.”

He chuckled. “I’m sure.”

She shifted her position and pulled her feet up onto the bench, wrapping her arms around Luka’s chest. “This is what I needed,” she murmured, sighing. “This has been such a busy month… Mother gave me three new clients in the last two weeks alone, we’ve had meetings almost every night since literally everyone needs something before New Year’s. I spent three hours today arguing with Kleidungschaft about all the reasons their idea for the spring ad campaign was literally the worst idea I had ever heard! And that’s on _top_ of everything else I have to do this week…”

He hummed, running a hand up and down her back. “Getting things ready for the trip?” he asked. She nodded. “She realizes you’re still in lycée, doesn’t she?”

“Do you think that matters to her?” Kagami snorted. “She expects me to do everything perfectly – meaning both ‘everything’ _and_ ‘perfect’.”

“At least she’s given you _some_ freedom…”

“Only what I’ve demanded.” She snuggled further into his chest. Some days, when the stress started to become overwhelming, this was the only thing that kept her going. It was true that her mother had accepted their relationship, that she had allowed Kagami a little more freedom since she turned 18, that Longg gave her the strength to stand up to her mother, but all the same… Without Luka’s calm support, she might never have claimed _any_ of that freedom. Luka quietly began to hum a tune she recognized: “ _Vive le vent_.” Slowly all the stress of the day melted away as his voice filled her ears.

“So cute!” Anarka observed from the stairs below deck, drawing Kagami out of her reverie. “But if yer not too busy, come on down fer some grub!”

Reluctantly, Kagami set the blanket aside and stood up, holding out a hand to help Luka up after her. He grasped her hand and didn’t let go while they followed Anarka downstairs. Kagami smiled and pulled off her jacket, setting it on a bench along the wall. The walls had been covered with lights, though there was no Christmas tree. Instead, Kagami noticed a triangular shape of Christmas lights and ornaments affixed to one wall with tacks, topped by a glowing star. Several of the ornaments displayed different versions of Santa – a Father Christmas, a Père Noël, a Sinterklaas, a couple that looked distinctly Mediterranean, even one that appeared to have stepped straight out of a Coke commercial. A handful of wrapped presents rested underneath the bench below the “tree;” Kagami had dropped off her own presents before work that morning. The table in the center of the room was set with six places, with a broiled fish in the place of honor surrounded by dishes of mashed potatoes, green beans, and even a small fruit salad at one end of the table alongside some finger foods. Kagami and Luka took the available seats on either side of Mira, and Anarka sat down on the end of the other bench, next to Juleka and Rose.

“Everything looks incredible!” Kagami announced as she helped herself to a pirozhki.

“Yer mate brought those,” Anarka replied, nodding to Mira with a grin.

Mira shrugged. “They’ve been a Christmas staple for as long as I can remember,” she explained, taking one for herself and examining it closely, not meeting the others’ eyes. “No matter where we were, Mama would make a batch of these with meat, onions, and mushrooms.”

“That’s so sweet,” Rose gushed, her head resting on Juleka’s shoulder. “My mom always makes almond macaroons and chocolat chaud for dessert on Christmas.”

“Have you spoken to your mom recently?” Kagami asked, turning to Mira curiously.

Mira shook her head, her mouth turned down in a frown. “I did send her a note back in the fall, though. I haven’t heard back from her yet.”

“Have you considered arranging a visit for the holidays?” inquired Luka. “I can’t imagine it would be difficult.”

Mira turned to stare at him wide-eyed. “I… hadn’t, actually,” she admitted slowly. “I’ve been on my own for so long, it never occurred to me that could be an option.”

“Ah!” Anarka exclaimed. Kagami froze, the roll halfway to her mouth. “We can’t start without our other guests!” She turned to Juleka. “Could you call your little friends to come out and join us?”

Kagami’s heart stopped. Her jaw dropped, staring at Anarka in shock. Around the table, the other four wore similar expressions on their faces.

“I–I’m sorry?” Juleka choked out, coughing up a mouthful of water. Rose smacked her back several times and she blinked rapidly before finally starting to breathe normally again.

“You know?” Anarka repeated, an amused look in her eyes. “The ones hiding in your bedroom?”

“ _What_ little friends hiding in the bedroom?” Luka asked, alarmed.

Anarka let out a bark of laughter, raising an eyebrow at him. “I ain’t no fool, young uns,” she told them. “And I hope I didn’t _raise_ any fools! Your little ‘wami’ friends can be rather noisy eaters.”

Kagami shared a look with Luka, who shook his head in bemusement.

A pink head phased through the bedroom door. “That was probably Roarr,” Daizzi squeaked sheepishly before emerging into the galley. She was quickly followed out by Sass, Paxx, Longg, and finally Roarr herself, looking dejected.

“Yeah…” Juleka admitted, her pale cheeks flushing red.

Luka cocked his head in surprise. “So… you knew we were Heroes? This whole time?”

Anarka shrugged. “It was either that or we had rats.”

“So you’re not, like, _mad_ or anything, right?” Juleka asked, worrying her bottom lip.

Anarka gave her a look of disbelief. “’Course not! Couldn’t be prouder – just… don’t die, yeah?”

Juleka narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “Is that why you’ve been buying so much dried beef lately?”

“Not enough for _this_ little fuzz-ball apparently,” Anarka replied, smiling as she patted Roarr on the head. “But I suppose we don’t have to worry about mice with a cat-like ‘wami’ on board!”

“It’s pronounced ‘ _Kwa_ mi’,” Juleka explained, rolling her eyes. “And Roarr’s a _tiger_ , not a _cat_.”

“We’d better not let her see Mullo…” Luka whispered to Kagami behind Mira’s back.

Kagami snorted. “I guess now the Kwamis don’t need to hide here.”

“Nope,” Anarka agreed, shaking her head. She examined the Kwamis seriously, wagging her finger. “But I won’t have stowaways and lagabouts on my ship, you hear? I expect you all to carry your weight. That means I ain’t cleaning up your crumbs anymore!”

“Of courssse, Captain,” Sass assured her, bobbing his head. “We will be happy to asssisssst however we can.”

“Stupid suck-up snake,” Roarr pouted, folding her arms and turning away.

“Now, now, Roarr,” Longg consoled her, patting her shoulder. “You have been living here for how long and eating her food? You can be polite.”

Roarr gave Longg a deadpan look. “It’s all fine for _you_ to say that: _your_ kid doesn’t actually _live_ here!”

Kagami laughed at the Kwamis’ banter, quickly joined by the other five around the table. Luka’s hand found hers, and she squeezed gently, giving him a warm smile. Even if she still _lived_ with her mother, _this_ – with her friends and adopted family – _this_ was really her home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The trip Kagami and Luka are taking is a reference to “Tokyo Time and Again,” which will publish immediately following this anthology (give or take a one-shot).


	6. Somali Miraculous Temple

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nawal and Shadya show Aisha how they celebrate Christmas

“What do you mean, _ukti_ , you’ve never heard of Christmas?” Nawal’s eyes shot wide open, staring at Aisha in surprise.

“I mean, I’ve _heard_ of it,” Aisha answered, a hurt look in her eyes. “Chloe mentioned it was coming up. But I never really knew anything more about it. It’s not something my parents talked about…”

“Not everyone got to celebrate a Christmas the way you remember, _mahbub_ ,” Shadya interjected, wrapping an arm around Aisha’s shoulders comfortingly and pressing a kiss to her hair.

Nawal flushed. “I’m sorry,” she apologized, taking one of Aisha’s hands. “It’s just – Christmas is the best!”

“Why?”

“I–” Nawal paused. She hadn’t really thought about that question before. Growing up, she and Muna had always gotten a little present on Christmas Day before church. Then – after the militants attacked – she had been on the street off and on. The only year she even thought about Christmas between then and when Master Said found her was the month she spent in a Dutch mission orphanage. She looked down at Minii, who was sitting on the table with a piece of lahoh and staring up at her curiously. “You know what? Why don’t I show you?”

Twenty minutes later, Nawal, Shadya, and Aisha were all walking hand-in-hand down the path alongside the waterfall, picking their way around loose stones, the spray from the waterfall misting and transforming into a rainbow in the sun. Minii darted along the path ahead of them, flitting from stone to stone, sniffing the plants growing on the edges of the path. Nawal’s eyes scanned the rocky outcroppings alongside the stream, but she couldn’t see exactly what she was looking for – anymore it was getting harder and harder to find olibanum-tree shoots, and they were almost to the foot of the mountain, too. “Minii,” she asked, “could you check above the falls for me?”

“Of course!” Minii beamed eagerly and shot off, back up the way they had come, a red blur disappearing in the bright sunlight.

“What are you looking for?” wondered Aisha.

Nawal grinned. “You’ll see…”

“We’ll _smell_ , you mean!” Shadya teased.

Nawal shook her head ruefully. “Help me find a good tree branch,” she told Aisha. “A few branches, maybe a meter long…”

“And it needs a base,” added Shadya. “Remember last year? Minii knocked it over?”

“Don’t remind me,” Nawal groaned. “I actually _liked_ that ball…”

Aisha furrowed her brows in confusion.

“Hey! What about that one over there?” Shadya pointed at a tree branch a little way off the path, lying under a scrub tree only a little taller than Nawal herself. Unfortunately, it appeared to have been lying there for a while; some of the leaves had turned brown and crumbly.

Nawal pursed her lips in thought. “Can’t we find one that’s still green?”

“There’s one!” Aisha called, jogging off the trail and returning with a branch almost as tall as her, with several branches of long green fronds.

Nawal took the branch from her and nodded. “Perfect!”

“So what are you going to do with it?” Aisha asked curiously.

“Decorate it!” replied Nawal, grinning with excitement.

Shadya hummed. “It’s so nice out,” she observed, stretching her arms and giving Nawal a mischievous smile, “why don’t we stay out a little longer?”

Nawal smiled back. “We can wait for Minii to come back!”

Almost an hour later, Nawal was kicking her feet in the ice-cold stream, leaning back on her arms, her head back to soak up the sun, her hand on top of Shadya’s. A small pile of smooth stones she’d found along the streambed lay in the grass beside her. Aisha lay on her side in the grass beside them, skipping stones across the water. Nawal sighed in contentment, the cool current rushing past her feet and warm sunlight easily starting to lull her to sleep.

Shadya poked her side. “Don’t fall asleep, _mahbub_ ,” she whispered, her breath tickling Nawal’s ear.

“It’s just so nice out here,” she murmured, yawning lazily.

“Well, I see a bunch of flying branches coming our way,” Shadya announced. “I’m going to guess there’s a Kwami attached to them!”

Nawal opened her eyes and looked up to find Minii, who was flying back to them from the north and had almost reached the top of the waterfall.

Aisha followed their gaze and cocked her head, sniffing. “You weren’t kidding!” she gasped. “I can smell those from here!”

“The temple smelled like someone had smashed a perfume bottle for _months_ last year!” Shadya stage-whispered, giggling.

Nawal rolled her eyes. “It isn’t _that_ bad…”

Shadya arched an eyebrow.

“So what are you going to do with them?” Aisha wondered.

Nawal stretched her neck before standing up. “Ready to find out?”

Aisha hopped to her feet, clutching the tree branch to her chest. “Sure!”

Back in Nawal’s room in the dormitory wing, Nawal carefully leaned the tree branch against the far corner of the room while Shadya fished the shoebox out from under the bed. Aisha perched on the edge of the bed, watching them work, her eyes stopping on the small display on Nawal’s desk. Shadya pulled out a string of colored wooden beads and handed them to Aisha, who examined them curiously.

“You drape them over the tree,” Nawal explained, accepting the paper angel that Shadya held out to her and propping it into the branches.

Aisha carefully wrapped the beads around the tree, looping the string around each branch to keep it in place. Shadya selected a small red ball and placed it on the lowest branch. Wagging her finger at Minii, her lip curved up in amusement as she warned, “You’re not going to knock _this_ one off, are you?”

The Kwami clasped her paws and shook her head seriously. “No, Guardian,” she answered.

“What are the olibanum-tree and myrrhor branches for?” asked Aisha, nodding to the other side of the room.

In response, Nawal picked up the thinnest of the branches and started twisting them together into a ring. The fragrant aroma permeated the small room. Aisha hummed appreciatively as the wreath took shape. Nawal nodded to Shadya, who wrapped a couple old strands of tinsel around the wreath, tying it off. “Now we hang it on the door, and that’s that!” Nawal announced, smiling. The wreath was lopsided, and didn’t look anything like the one she remembered from the orphanage, but it was a reminder of happy times.

 _But, then,_ she mused, giving Aisha and Shadya a fond look, _these are even better times!_

“What’s next?” Aisha asked.

Nawal gave her an evaluating look. “Want to help me bake?”

“That sounds like fun!” Aisha cheered, grinning eagerly.

* * *

Nawal blew on the last stone to make sure the paint had dried before placing it in the bag along with all the others. It was almost midnight, and the rest of the dormitory wing was absolutely silent outside of her room. After baking their cookies this afternoon, Shadya and Aisha had gone to read in the library for their guardian training, while Nawal had pulled out her art supplies. Apart from a break for dinner, she had spent most of the evening on her project. Now, everyone else in the temple was fast asleep – even Shadya had gone to bed already. Nawal smiled: it was a good thing Aisha was comfortable sleeping in her own bed after her group therapy retreat; it would have been so much harder to do this tonight if she had to sneak around her little sister! “Minii?” she whispered softly, looking around her room for the Kwami.

A high-pitched giggle drew her attention to the Nativity scene on her desk. It wasn’t the one she had made with her mother and Muna; that one had been lost when her village was raided. But since Said and Mohamed brought her to the temple almost three years ago, every Christmas she had made a couple of new figures for her own Nativity set. She had just finished the sheep today… and one of the sheep was red with tiny antennae protruding from her head! Nawal smiled affectionately and plucked up the Kwami. “Trying to hide in my nativity?” she asked.

“If you didn’t want me hiding in it, you shouldn’t have made it Kwami sized!” Minii pointed out with a giggle.

Nawal picked up one of the shepherds, rubbing a finger along the bottom edge of the hay she had tied together with twine. A little of the paint had rubbed off the smooth wooden ball she had used for the head; she could touch that up in the morning. Between Diminishm-ant and Minii’s help, she had gotten the detailing almost perfect. But for now… “Are you ready?” she asked Minii.

The Kwami nodded. “As long as there are cookies left when we get done!”

“I’ll be sure to save a few kabis for you!” Nawal promised. “Minii, Get tiny!” A minute later, Ngarayap picked up her bag of presents, stepped outside into the hallway. “Diminishm-ant,” she whispered, and shrank. Pulling a small Santa hat in the same shade of red as her miraculous suit out of her bag, she placed it on her head. Time to get to work.

The room next door to hers was Shadya’s, and she had left her door ajar. Ngarayap slipped inside quietly, ran across to her nightstand, and shot her grappling hook to loop around the drawer pull. Quickly and quietly she clambered up the rope and swung herself up onto the nightstand. The first of her stones, one painted with a candy cane, she pulled out and placed next to Shadya’s glasses – the first year she had done this, she had put the gifts in their shoes, but Mohamed had not appreciated it. Ngarayap hopped onto the bed, landed next to Shadya’s head, and planted a kiss on her cheek with a murmured, “Merry Christmas, _mahbub_.”

Mohamed’s was the next room she visited. She took a running start and slid under the door to find the room dark and empty. She rolled her eyes: Mohamed was always staying up late in his lab. But she climbed up to his nightstand and withdrew her next two stones, one each for Mohamed and Mnemmi, and placed them side by side where they would be sure to find them in the morning.

Ngarayap worked quickly through the rest of her deliveries, including ones for Aadan, Said, then Maaza and Nkuu, then Hussain (she left him two stones painted with speckulas shapes as a thank you for letting her use the kitchen), then Abdi and Growll, and finally Aisha. She was down to her last few seconds when she hopped from Aisha’s nightstand onto her bed, kissed her on the forehead, and whispered, “Merry Christmas, _ukti_.”

Aisha mumbled something softly but didn’t wake up.

Ngarayap raced across the room, slid under the door jamb, and emerged in the hallway just as her Diminishm-ant wore off and she grew back to her normal size, her Santa hat now barely large enough to cover one of her ears. She could hear footsteps in the main hall – Mohamed on his way to bed – and slipped back inside her own room, shutting the door quietly behind her. “Minii, Get big,” she murmured, and a moment later she caught the exhausted Kwami in her hand.

“Merry Christmas, kiddo,” Minii told her, stretching her arms, nuzzling Nawal’s cheek, and plopping the Santa hat onto her own head. She looked around the room. “Time for cookies now?”

Nawal nodded and plopped onto her bed, grabbing the plate of kabis off her desk and handing Minii a cookie shaped like a person with a large head and two antennae. Tomorrow would be an early morning. First she was going to make everyone the special breakfast stew that she could still remember her family having every Christmas. And she had promised to show Aisha how to bake Ghorayebah cookies the way her mother had made them. But for tonight it was just her, Minii, and their cookies. “Merry Christmas,” she agreed, smiling in contentment.


	7. Alya and Nino

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alya and Nino on their skiing trip

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually didn’t plan to write this one, but I got a couple of comments about Alya and Nino and their ski trip in chapter 1, so I figured I might as well pay that off!

Carapolar zipped down the mountain, past snow-covered trees, his sled-shield tracing smooth lines through the almost-pristine snow. Leaning to one side he crossed over the path left behind by his last trip down the mountain, splitting the gap between two of the trees, angling to find a shortcut. He could hear the wind whipping behind him; a streak of muted grey-orange in his peripheral vision had him ducking low, pressing himself down into the sled as Renarctique jumped straight over him, her skis barely brushing his back.

“You’ll have to be quicker than that, babe!” she shouted behind her, her voice blown away by the wind. “I’ll save you a spot at the retirement home, slowpoke!”

“Tough talk!” he shot back halfheartedly, scanning the mountainside ahead for a shortcut. “Let’s see if you can follow through on that!” There: a small snow bank, partway down, between two trees. Renarctique skimmed past it, but he pointed his sled directly at it. Fifteen meters, ten meters, five… He pulled back on the front of his sled and shifted his weight back as he hit, launching up into the air, soaring above the snow, just below the tops of the trees. “Beat that!” he whooped, pumping his fist as he flew directly over Renarctique’s head.

“Nino!” she screamed, her terror nearly stopping his heart, pulling his attention down to her, only to find her staring ahead of him in horror. He turned forward–

–just as he slammed straight into the tree branch. The sled flew out from under him and rocketed off down the mountain, ricocheting off of one tree before embedding itself in another. Carapolar meanwhile dropped to the ground, landing in the snowdrift that had blown up against the tree. All the wind was knocked from his lungs. Looking up past the edges of the hole he had traced into the snow and blinking in surprise, his mouth opened and shut dumbly.

“Nino! Babe!?” He could hear her crashing through the brush toward him.

He couldn’t breathe! His lungs were on fire! He–Carapolar closed his eyes, forcing himself to calm down, and slowly inhaled, filling his lungs and reinvigorating his muscles. He exhaled, only to inhale again, deeper. His racing pulse slowed, and he became aware that he was lying in a mass of snow that had cushioned his fall. Nothing felt broken, but he would probably be sore in the morning. But the cold snow was soothing against his back. And it was good packing snow…

“Babe? Are you okay?” Renarctique’s head popped into view, her eyes wide with worry–

–only for the worry to melt away when the snowball burst against her nose. She stared at him in shock until the second snowball hit her in the miraculous ear. That stirred her out of her reverie, and she ducked behind a tree moments before the third snowball could reach her.

“You stupid Turtle!” she screamed heatedly, hurling a snowball in his general direction. It struck the tree directly above him at an angle, breaking off a branch and dropping a load of snow directly on Carapolar’s head. He stared up at the broken stump, eyes wide in surprise: _maybe this_ wasn’t _the smartest idea…_

Another snowball passed within centimeters of his shoulder. “You. Stupid. Man!” she shrieked, punctuated each word with another snowball. “I. Thought. You. Were. Dead!” The last snowball peeled a strip of bark off the tree. “I should kill you myself!” she seethed, fire in her eyes.

“Umm… Babe?” he began, grimacing sheepishly and holding his hands up. “Truce?” She glared at him. “Please?”

Renarctique threw herself at him, pulling him into a bone-crushing hug, tears in her eyes. “Please don’t do that to me,” she whispered.

Carapolar wrapped his arms around her and held her close. “I’m okay, babe,” he assured her. “Though that might not still be the case if any of those snowballs had actually _hit_ me…”

She leaned back and fixed him with a withering glare. “Well, that’s your own fault, _babe_.”

“Umm… sorry?” He shivered. “But I _am_ ready to head back in now – at least if you are.”

She nodded and reluctantly let go of him, pushing herself to her feet and holding and hand out to help him up. He winced on standing up, feeling the soreness running down his leg. Her expression instantly turned to one of concern, and she wrapped her arm around him. Taking a cautious step, then another, he gritted his teeth, forcing himself to move slowly and methodically. His legs and butt were tender, but no stabbing pains – nothing broken. With each step he became surer of himself and his muscles moved more easily. Finally he nodded, stretching his arms.

“I’m okay,” he assured her, planting a kiss on her forehead.

“If you’re sure…” She frowned, but her lips quirked up into a wry smile. “It’s still your own fault, you know.”

“Well I couldn’t just _let_ you win,” he argued as they slowly jogged around the mountain, toward the regular skiing trails.

“A stupid race isn’t worth your _life_ ,” she shot back.

“Try telling Kim that,” he pointed out, grinning.

She rolled her eyes as they finally saw another skier fly past ahead and ducked behind a tree to wait for them to pass. “You’re incorrigible,” she grumbled, smiling warmly at him, as they de-transformed.

“Let’s do that again!” Trixx cheered, clapping his paws excitedly.

Wayzz shivered, folding his arms. “At least one of us enjoyed himself,” he grumbled.

“Sorry, dude,” Nino apologized as the Kwami disappeared into a pocket of his coat. Wayzz sniffed.

“Oh, don’t worry about him,” Trixx scoffed, waving a paw dismissively as he followed Wayzz. “He pretends to be all wise and mature, but he really enjoys fooling around just as much as anyone else!”

“We have plenty of treats for you both back in the room,” Alya assured them, leading the way out onto the ski trail that would take them back down to the lodge.

Nino followed her example, bending low over his skis, shifting slightly to keep his balance as they made their way back. Slowly he turned into a number of S-curves, slowing down slightly after the frenetic pace they had set while transformed. Ahead of him, as if she had sensed it, Alya copied the maneuver. After so many years, all of this had almost become second nature – skiing, keeping up with Alya, even the way they could tell what the other was thinking almost unconsciously. It had taken until that summer before their parents had really gotten on board with the idea of them taking trips together, alone. But now that they were both 18, this time Otis had simply pulled Nino aside before they left, taken his hand, looked him in the eye, and told him, “Bring her back safe.”

 _As if I would do anything less_ , he mused, his eyes following her movements as they glided past the ski lodge and down the line of cabins to the one they had rented. It had taken almost a month of Alya’s ad revenue, plus several weekends of DJ gigs to afford this trip, but it had been worth it. Alya skidded to a sudden stop just in front of the door, detached her skis, and leaned them against the rack beside the door along with her poles before turning back to watch Nino do the same.

“How are you feeling?” she asked, eyeing him critically as she took off her snow boots to leave on the mat inside the door.

He shrugged. “The worst bruise is to my pride,” he answered. “Not that that’s the _only_ one…” he muttered, grimacing.

She frowned, wrapping an arm around his waist and pressing a kiss to his lips. “Would you be okay to make some cocoa?” she asked. “Otherwise I’ll do it after I change.”

“I’ve got it,” he assured her, waving her toward the bedroom. “Go; get comfy!” Pulling out the hot chocolate mix, Nino poured some milk and stuck it in the microwave to heat up. Wayzz phased out of his coat and floated across to the kitchenette. Nino rummaged around in the cabinet and pulled out a sleeve of crackers. “How’s this, dude?” he asked.

“This works; thank you, Nino.” Wayzz carefully opened the sleeve and shoved an entire cracker in his mouth. “I am glad to see you both enjoying yourselves,” he observed. “You do seem quite content!”

Nino smiled, staring at the bedroom door. “She is pretty amazing, isn’t she?”

Trixx rolled his eyes. “You are one smitten kitten, kit!”

Nino raised an eyebrow. “Is that a bad thing?”

“Not especially,” Trixx replied, fetching a beef stick out of the cupboard. “But still…”

Nino furrowed his brows as he looked around the sitting room. “Can the two of you handle the milk?” he asked. Wayzz nodded. “Thanks, dude,” he called, crossing to kneel in front of the fireplace. The embers had died down almost to nothing, and he poked them a couple times, bringing the red glow back. Placing a couple logs inside, along with a handful of thinner twigs, he stoked the fire, stirring it around until the kindling started to smoke.

“Oooh, a fire?” Alya asked from behind him. Nino turned around and smiled on seeing her standing in the bedroom doorway in her sweatpants and sweatshirt, her hair falling down her back loosely.

“Seemed like the thing to do,” he agreed.

She glanced over at the kitchen and started on watching the Kwamis carrying mugs larger than themselves, one to Alya and the other to Nino. Accepting her drink, Alya took a sip and sighed appreciatively before she dropped to sit on the floor behind Nino, leaning back against the couch. Nino slid back to join her, resting his back against her shoulder. “How’s your back?” she asked, pressing her fingers into his back muscles.

He winced. “Better. Though I wouldn’t say no to a backrub.”

She arched an eyebrow at him dubiously. “You almost kill yourself, get hurt, and then expect _me_ to fix it?” she deadpanned.

He shrugged. “It works for Adrien.”

She rolled her eyes affectionately and set her mug aside. Pushing him forward slightly and adjusting her legs, she started from his shoulders, slowly kneading out the knots in his muscles. Nino groaned when her fingers found the spot where he’d landed.

“You know I hate it when you get yourself hurt,” Alya whispered finally, wrapping her arms around him and pulling him back against her chest.

“I know; I don’t exactly like _getting_ hurt!” he replied wryly. She tensed. Sighing, he snagged the blanket off the couch and draped it over them both before turning around to kneel in front of her. “I never want to scare you,” he told her seriously, “but I’m always going to protect you – it’s kind of my thing.”

She sniffed, hugging him fiercely. “You know I love you. So much.”

He smiled softly, holding her close and running his fingers through her hair. “And you know I love you.”


	8. The Superhero Liaison Department

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roger's "Office Christmas Party," plus a couple of guests

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All of these characters appear in the [“SLD Case Reports.”](https://archiveofourown.org/series/2062188) You can find background information on the [Wiki](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28649532/chapters/70340337).

As the elevator door opened onto the Superhero Liaison Department’s Laboratory level, Roger felt an overwhelming sense of pride at what they had managed to accomplish in only a few months. It had all started with him sitting in Andre’s office, pitching what this department could look like and how it could benefit both the Prefecture and the city. Then it had been in Ramus’ hospital room, offering him a prosthetic and an opportunity. Months of work had ensued, a laborious process of vetting every single one of his potential recruits. But now? Now all of that hard work was beginning to pay off.

He inhaled the fragrant scent of the Christmas-themed candles with which his assistant, Jeanne, had insisted that they line the walls. Considering that half the time the labs down here smelled like ozone and industrial cleaners, the gingerbread-scented candles were a definite improvement. Jeanne and Élodie had been busy decorating down here almost all day – he had actually gotten a complaint from Theo when Élodie insisted on hanging lights around the walls of his lab room; the flashing colored lights made it impossible for him to make out anything on the test he was running. That was when Roger had put his foot down: he had ordered Theo to take a break and help them decorate for the party.

“This place is incredible!” Irene observed beside him as they stepped off the elevator, looking around wide-eyed. “I had no idea this was down here. And this is all for your department?”

Roger nodded. “This had been filled with archives – some dating back to the Revolution – but we cleared it out by condensing with the floor above and digitizing a lot of records.”

“A floor this size, depending on how the records were organized, would require several terabytes of storage space,” commented Max, walking behind them, hand-in-hand with Sabrina.

Roger stifled a chuckle: as if Max didn’t know _exactly_ how much storage space it had required!

Sabrina inhaled deeply. “I’m so glad you allowed us to come with you, Daddy! I’d hoped I’d get a chance to meet some of the people you work with.”

Looking around the room, it appeared as though most of his officers had arrived already – some with spouses. De Gouges and Girardot stood by the table of refreshments where Élodie was busy pouring drinks. Theo’s wife, Ginette, was hanging another ornament on the Christmas tree erected in the center of the firing range while Officer Luron’s new fiancée watched.

Irene squeezed Roger’s arm gently before releasing him and moving off in the direction of the Christmas tree. “Ginette!” she called once she was closer, “how are you? Will Guillaume be home for the holidays?”

The older woman looked over when she called and smiled widely, giving her a quick hug and peck on the cheek. “Why, Irene! It has been far too long! Sadly, Guillaume can’t make it for Christmas; he and Isabelle are taking Jerome to Provence to spend Christmas with her parents. But they’ll be up here for New Year’s!”

“Oh, how exciting!”

Looking nervous, Officer Luron’s fiancée held out her hand to Irene, “I’m Delphine. I’m… with Ray. It’s nice to meet you.”

“It’s nice to meet you, too,” Irene responded giving her a warm smile and clasping the offered hand with both of her own.

“Irene’s husband is the boss,” Ginette stage-whispered with a mirthful chuckle.

“Oh.” Delphine’s eyes widened further.

Irene shook her head ruefully. “You know Roger never wanted to be a _boss_.” Turning to Delphine she added, “It’s really not all that exciting. Roger’s still out late at work; the only difference is that now his most common ‘injury’ is a paper cut! But I know how difficult it can be when you are married to a police officer – sometimes it’s like being married to the job!”

Delphine frowned, hugging her chest. “I wasn’t quite ready for that,” she admitted. “A couple weeks ago, Ray was called out in the middle of the night – you must’ve seen it – and I spent the rest of the night in front of the TV and on Twitter, just waiting for information. How do you live with the stress?”

As Irene nodded sympathetically and wrapped an arm around the younger woman, Roger turned to survey the rest of the party. Near the lab door, Theo appeared to be demonstrating his new energy-resistant material for Officer Moreau and his wife; Max wandered over in that direction, dragging Sabrina after him.

Theo placed a circular piece of fabric into a metal hoop, pulling it taut. He pressed a button on his wrist, extending a small barrel out of his sliver bracelet, held it close to the fabric, and fired a steady stream of energy. The fabric remained untouched, though a thin trail of smoke rose from it. Theo cut the energy and removed the bracelet before passing the fabric to Moreau’s wife. “This fabric uses a special coating that will resist the effects of energy blasts – though only for a limited amount of time. Unfortunately I have been unable to make it last for longer than two minutes, and any time it gets hit the coating needs to be reapplied.”

“Still,” Moreau observed, raising an eyebrow, “this will be better than nothing, right?”

“Absolutely,” Theo confirmed, nodding. “And I’m going to keep refining it.”

Moreau turned to his wife and grinned, “See, Ange, nothing to worry about.”

Angelique pursed her lips dubiously, fingering the spot that had smoked. “Considering what it did to _you_ when you got hit…”

“But I’m okay now,” he assured her, rubbing her arm gently.

“But what about next time?” she asked, pulling away from him, a worried look in her eyes. “You _and_ Franç. I love you and I’m proud and I understand and… it’s just so dangerous – now more than ever. It was bad enough watching Papa, but now it’s both of you, and the people you’re dealing with are even worse.”

“I can’t just stop,” Moreau pointed out. “This job is important.”

Angelique narrowed her eyes at him and opened her mouth, but froze when another voice spoke. “I can imagine that watching someone you love put himself in danger is a frightening experience,” Sabrina interjected, her eyes drifting from Angelique to Max as she spoke. “However much you love him, you are afraid of him getting hurt.”

“Well, I mean… yeah.” Angelique sniffled and took Moreau’s hand, squeezing it. “All I want is for him to be safe.”

Moreau put his hand on her cheek. “I don’t exactly _want_ to get hurt; this is just a dangerous job.”

Max stopped next to Theo and hummed pensively, looking more closely at the fabric in Angelique’s hand. “May I?” he asked. She handed it to him, and Max held it up to his eye, examining it thoroughly before sniffing it. “Have you considered increasing the ratio of niobium carbide in your spray?”

Theo hummed, stroking his chin pensively. “That… might improve the heat resistance,” he conceded, nodding slowly. “I will have to give that further testing.”

“Spraying that over a mesh of hafnium carbide could produce a cloth with 70% or greater resistance to energy blasts,” added Max.

“It is unfortunate that both of those compounds are so expensive.” Theo frowned.

Max furrowed his brows, a calculating look in his eyes. “That _is_ too bad,” he agreed.

Sabrina smiled and put her arm around Max, resting her head on his shoulder. “I’m sure you can figure something out!”

Roger didn’t turn as he heard familiar footsteps approach from the direction of the drink table. “Enjoying the party, Luc?”

“Naturally, boss,” Ramus answered, stopping beside Roger. He shook his head ruefully, waving his drink glass toward Sabrina and Max. “I still can’t believe that’s the same kid.”

“Same one!” Roger confirmed proudly.

“What was she, _two_ when we met?”

Roger furrowed his brows in thought. “Just after her third birthday, I think?”

Ramus nodded. “Maybe it was a birthday picture you showed me.” He paused. “Does that make us old?”

Roger shook his head ruefully, watching the two teens work their way through the crowd, stopping to chat with Bloch and M. Carré. “You have _no_ idea…” Roger muttered. “Last I knew, Sabrina was getting glasses for the first time; now she has her first boyfriend.”

“Speaking of, is it really a good idea to bring not just your teenage daughter but her _boyfriend_ into our top-secret underground lab, boss?” Ramus wondered, raising an eyebrow. “Not that I think _Sabrina_ is a security risk, but I can’t say the same for this boyfriend. I don’t know about _you_ , but I remember _my_ lycée relationships, and none of them ended overly well. The last thing we need is an upset boyfriend blabbing to the bad guys for revenge…”

Roger started to laugh but schooled his features. Instead, he merely answered, “I have full trust in both Sabrina and Max.”

“It’s obvious you trust them if you brought them,” Ramus acknowledged. “And it’s good that you approve of Sabrina’s boyfriend. But all the same.”

Roger cracked a smile and clapped Ramus on the back. “As a matter of fact, of everyone here I think they are the _least_ likely to pose a security risk! And that actually doesn’t have anything to do with my approving of Max or their relationship.”

Ramus frowned and sipped his drink. “Well, if you say so, Boss,” he replied doubtfully.

Roger chuckled. “You know, you _can_ just enjoy the party,” he observed, starting to move toward the refreshment table. “We worked hard all year; we need an hour or two to unwind and relax.”

“That’s true,” Ramus agreed, setting a plate in his grasping claw and piling it high with cheese and crackers.

Roger helped himself to a piece of the bûche de noël, along with a handful of nuts. Taking a bite of the cake, his eyes lit up. “Where did you get this from?” he asked Élodie, indicating the bûche de noël.

“Tom and Sabine’s,” she answered, surprised. “They even gave me a discount; said it was a special price for public servants.”

Roger nodded and ate another bite. “It’s delicious as always for them. But what are your holiday plans?”

“Oh, Julien’s mother is in town for the week, so we are hosting her. Other than that?” she shrugged. “I agreed to work Christmas afternoon and let Mathieu spend it with his children.”

“It looks like we’ll have plenty left over after the party,” Roger noted, examining the table. “We’ll need to save some of these leftovers for Christmas Day. Give the people working the holiday something to look forward to.”

Élodie giggled. “As long as we don’t have any calls get _too_ crazy, I’ll consider that something to look forward to!”

“I’ll drink to that!” called Sgt. Girardot, raising her punch glass and taking a sip.

“Wouldn’t we all,” Roger agreed, picking out another piece of bûche de noël for Irene. As he was walking away from the refreshment table, he noticed Max crossing the firing range and moving toward the detention cells. As he walked, however, Officer Luron broke away from where he, Mansart, and Roux had been discussing Paris Saint-Germain’s chances next year. Putting on a burst of speed, he caught up to Max right in front of the detainment cells. Max tapped on the glass and listened intently to the resonance.

“Can I help you?” asked Luron, raising an eyebrow suspiciously.

Max hummed thoughtfully. “Actually, I was wondering how these cells would really hold up to a superhuman prisoner. What if the person could manipulate earth, for example?”

Luron cocked his head in surprise. “What’s your interest?”

“Simple curiosity. It is good to know that the authorities are equipped for different contingencies. After the last four years, we have seen almost everything here, correct?”

“That we have,” agreed Luron. His eyes drifted across to Roger and he shrugged. “We haven’t had too many prisoners in these cells yet. But I suppose if one did control earth, we would have to disrupt his connection to the ground somehow to keep him from using it.”

Max furrowed his brows, deep in thought. “That was a bit of an oversight,” he admitted. “Hopefully you have not had that problem yet, though.”

“Not yet,” agreed Luron, frowning. “But I guess it’s still possible.” He chuckled. “If that happened, I guess we would just have to call the Heroes of Paris!” he added, walking back over toward the rest of the group.

“Yeah…” Max murmured, staring at the cell deep in thought.

Roger scanned the room quickly to find Irene, sitting off to the side at one of the tables, still talking with Delphine. He caught her eye and held up the cake for her to see. Irene gave him a tiny nod of acknowledgement. “Let me give you my number,” Irene offered the younger woman, patting her arm. “Call anytime you need to talk.”

Delphine nodded, wiping her eye. “I will – and thank you, Mme…”

“Just ‘Irene’, dear.”

“Thanks, Irene.”

With a smile, Irene left her to find Roger, who placed his hand on her waist, and offered her the bûche de noël. “Are you enjoying yourself?” he asked, kissing her temple.

She looked up at him and smiled. “It is wonderful to see so many people here – the old faces _and_ the new ones!”


	9. The Heroes of the UK

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bri and Anne spend Christmas Eve with Felix and Amelie

The middle of the afternoon on the day before Christmas, Bri pulled her new (to her) car out of the campus parking lot, turned down the Strand, and traced her way through the city to find the highway to the north, toward the Graham de Vanily Manor. In the passenger seat, Anne fiddled with the touch screen Bri had installed in the dashboard, looking for music. The back seat was loaded down with presents for Anne’s family, along with their suitcases. They could have taken the portal to the Manor for Christmas and then back again before leaving for Ireland, but Bri wanted to test out the car before the longer trip. Plus this would get them out of the city traffic for tomorrow.

“Thanks for the invitation,” she told Anne with a small smile. “After this year, I wasn’t really sure what I would do for Christmas,” she admitted. “Something about going home and trying to pretend with Papa just didn’t feel right – not for Christmas.”

Anne hummed. “I get it: Christmas is about family and friends, not about fighting. Of course, it’s also about forgiveness.”

Bri sighed. “I know I have to talk to him at some point.” She looked down at the floor. “I just – I don’t know if I can do it.”

Anne let out a snort of laughter. “My girl can run towards a car accident, wade through fire, and stare down bank robbers, but she can’t talk to her old man,” she observed, shaking her head. She put a hand on Bri’s shoulder. “When the time comes, I’ll be right there with you if you need me – either for moral support or to throw a tree at him. And I’m sure that goes for your fella, too!”

“Thanks.” Bri grinned. “Still, I’m definitely looking forward to meeting your family tomorrow!”

“Me, too!” Anne agreed. “But we’ll have to come back in the spring: I said I’d show you green, but there won’t be much this time o’ the year!”

Bri raised an eyebrow at her. “Not going to turn up the charm and make the countryside bloom out just because you can?”

Anne giggled, looking off into the distance contemplatively. “Now _there_ ’s an idea!” She frowned. “Might make a bags of the plants so they can’t grow in the spring, though.”

“Perhaps we should test that,” Bri suggested. “See just how much you can do and whether there would be any consequences.”

As they pulled around the circular drive in front of the Manor, Bri took in the brilliant Christmas lights draped across the front porch and the large Christmas tree covered in white lights and perfectly-spaced ball ornaments visible in the front room through the open windows. With the snow covering the front lawn and icicles hanging from the eaves, the Manor looked exactly like her image of a fancy Christmas. She and Anne each grabbed a bag with presents for Amelie and Felix, along with their overnight bags, and they made their way up to the front door, which opened almost immediately as Felix met them at the door.

“Good afternoon, ladies,” Felix greeted them. Anne held out a hand for him to shake. “As verdant as always,” he observed, eyeing her festive nail polish. “If you know what I _green_.”

Anne groaned.

“Sorry,” he apologized, smirking mischievously. “I didn’t really _plant_ that out!”

Bri raised an eyebrow at him. “If I’d known I’d have to put up with the puns, we might not have taken you up on the offer!”

He held his hand up. “I promise: no more puns _dogging_ at your heels while you’re here!”

She rolled her eyes and shook her head as he took her hand to kiss the knuckles. “You’re terrible.”

He wagged his eyebrows. “One of these days I’ll have you _howling_ with laughter!”

“I believe it,” Anne observed, stifling a laugh.

“Stockholm Syndrome,” Bri agreed as they followed Felix to the back sitting room, where they found Amelie sitting on the settee in front of a smaller tree covered in handmade and collectible ornaments. Barkk was just visible in the branches of the tree, batting at a cat ornament. Soft Christmas music played on the record player in the corner. Bri took in a deep breath, inhaling the scent of gingerbread. This was closer to the Christmases she remembered growing up.

Amelie rose from her chair and pulled the two girls together into a hug. “Thank you so much for joining us!” she gushed. “We haven’t actually had more than the two of us on Christmas Eve since Robert passed.”

“Just the two of us,” Felix added, grinning nervously and helping himself to a cookie.

“Of course!” Bri assured them, giving Amelie a smile. She set her bag of presents next to the tree alongside a stack of other gifts. “Thank you for the invitation!”

“It’s so amazing to have everyone here for Christmas!” squealed Barkk, flitting out of the tree and nuzzling up to Bri’s cheek. Bri cupped her hand around the Kwami and giggled at feeling her tail wag.

“So shall we open presents now, or wait until after dinner?” Amelie asked.

“What do you normally do?” Anne replied.

Felix smirked. “Normally Mother says we’re going to wait until after dinner, but we end up opening them beforehand anyways!”

“Why doesn’t it surprise me that you would want to open presents right away, Pup?” Bri teased wryly.

“ _I_ ’m not the one who insists on it!” he bantered back, nodding his head toward Amelie.

“Presents before dinner sounds like fun,” Anne commented, sitting down in front of the tree. “My family always opens presents a few at a time over Christmas Eve and Christmas Day.”

“What do you want to open first?” Amelie asked, passing boxes around.

Anne looked at the large box Amelie had handed her in some confusion. “You’ve piqued my curiosity,” she noted, tearing the wrapping paper off and opening the box. She pulled out a forest-green jacket and held it up in surprise, fingering the jacket’s hood. Beneath the jacket she found a pair of dark-brown leggings as well as a skirt in the same color.

“I hope you like the colors,” Amelie told her. “It actually comes from both of us, as well as the Heroes of Paris. The material is fireproof and resistant to most stabbing and slashing attacks – the Heroes developed it for a few of their non-miraculous heroes. If you prefer a different cut for any of the pieces, Ladybug promised to make any alterations you need. We… figured you could use a suit of your own,” she explained anxiously.

Anne held up the skirt and grinned. “This is totally savage!”

Seeing Amelie’s confused look, Bri stifled a laugh and told her, “That means she’s happy.”

Felix chuckled. “We can’t have our resident witch–”

“–Bandruí”

“–Druidess,” he amended, “not looking stylish while launching thistles at the London muggers!”

Amelie nodded in relief, and Bri picked up a shirt box with a tag noting that it came from Felix. She glanced up at him in curiosity. “What, did you get me something from your cousin’s fashion house?”

He scoffed. “I don’t think Marinette would be caught _dead_ designing something like this!” He wagged his eyebrows. “I have to say, _mon Fer_ , I can’t wait to see you _in_ this, but I _also_ can’t wait to see you _out_ of it!”

She arched an eyebrow dubiously. “Okay, when you put it like that… I’m not sure if I should open it here with witnesses around, or if I should just kill it with fire _now_!”

He rolled his eyes. “Just open the present, woman.”

Bri eyed the present with some concern and tentatively ripped off the wrapping paper to find a box from Victoria’s Secret. She looked at Felix suspiciously. “If this is what I think it is, I might just throw you off the roof!” Felix smirked. Turning back to the present, Bri opened the box… and promptly doubled over laughing. She pulled out a lurid green sweater with a basset hound on the front wearing a dopey smile and reindeer antlers. Written above and below the hound in red lettering was, “Here Comes Santa Paws.”

“We match!” Anne laughed, holding out her jacket.

Barkk leapt off the coffee table and giggled shrilly, pointing a paw at the reindeer antlers she was wearing. “ _We_ can match, too!”

Before pulling the sweater over her head, Bri gestured to the smaller boxes she had brought. “You should probably open your gifts at the same time; I actually gave each of you almost the same thing.”

Felix looked at his box doubtfully and shook it. Looking at Amelie and Anne, he commented, “Let me guess: mascara and lipstick? Just what I always wanted!”

Bri smirked. “Of course not; we all know it wouldn’t do you any good.”

“Are you saying I’m already too _dog_ gone handsome?”

“Nope.” Bri paused a moment. “I’m saying it’s a lost cause!”

Anne let out a snort of laughter and finished opening her box to reveal a thin, simple bracelet band with a rounded watch face on one side. She examined it curiously before slipping it onto her wrist, where it automatically shrank to fit snugly. Amelie unwrapped a similar bracelet with a slightly more ornate band. Felix’s had a wider face. “Quality gift, girl,” Anne commented, twisting it around. “But what’s it for?”

Bri felt heat rise in her cheeks. “I figured if the Heroes of Paris have their emergency watches, why couldn’t we have our own version?” she explained. She held up her own wrist to show one of her bracelets. “It’s a simplified version of these. No grappling hook and only a basic energy pistol – not much more than the Beam of Life – but it does have a taser. And it will pair with your phone and send an emergency alert if you speak an alert phrase.” She grinned sheepishly. “I started working on it after… the incident.”

“It’s a sweet gift,” Felix agreed, trying to hide a smile, “but can it play games?”

Bri shook her head in amusement as they proceeded to open the rest of the gifts. By the time they were finished it was time for dinner – Yorkshire pudding and roast beef, with braised cabbage, mashed potatoes, and cranberry relish on the side – which the chef had already laid out for them in the dining room. By the time the chef returned with the Yule log for dessert, Bri was almost ready to fall asleep from all the rich food. After dinner, Amelie led them to the sitting room, where they sang Christmas carols while she played piano – Barkk’s voice the highest of all. Finally, after another dessert of trifle, Amelie stifled a yawn and excused herself for the night. Anne also gave Bri and Felix a look and went upstairs to bed. Felix started to rise, but Bri continued to sit on the sofa, staring at the tree, watching the white lights twinkle in the darkness.

Felix dropped onto the sofa next to her. “Still having trouble sleeping, _mon Fer_?” he asked sympathetically.

She snorted, though without any amusement behind it. “What was your first clue?” She sighed. “Not _still_ , really; more like _again_ …”

He nodded slowly and sighed. “So tell me about your Christmas traditions, _mon Fer_ ,” he began, watching her intently as Barkk curled up between them.

Bri hummed quietly and let out a breath, scratching Barkk behind the ears. “Let’s see… on Christmas Eve _Papa_ would always dress up as _Père Noël_ to deliver presents for _Maman_ and me. Some years we would go to the midnight Mass at Notre Dame – not in a couple years, though. Then on Christmas morning _Maman_ made special crepes for breakfast and we spent the whole day together. One year _Papa_ gave me a robotics set, and we put it together – by dinner it could even pour the drinks!” She smiled softly. “What about your family?”

Felix leaned back, stretching his arms along the back of the sofa. “Growing up, about every other year _Tante_ Emilie, _Oncle_ Gabriel, and Adrien would come for Christmas, and Adrien and I would stay up until midnight to see if we could hear Father Christmas arrive,” he answered. “Christmas Eve we opened all the presents under the tree, but then on Christmas morning there were always more from ‘Father Christmas.’ And of course singing Christmas carols together: Mother and _Tante_ would take turns playing. _Oncle_ can’t sing worth a damn – probably should have figured out from _that_ that he was a super-villain! – but the rest of us would all sing together.” He frowned. “But then everything changed. _Tante_ disappeared, and we hardly saw _Oncle_ or Adrien after that. Then Father died, and Christmas just didn’t feel like as much fun.” He sighed heavily.

Bri leaned into his side, and he draped an arm over her shoulder. “Now that I know _Papa_ is a criminal,” she confessed, “I really didn’t know if I wanted to go and spend Christmas with him. I mean, I _do_ … but I still don’t know if I’m ready to face him. But I didn’t exactly want to spend Christmas alone in London, either.”

Felix squeezed her arm. “I’m glad you came to spend Christmas with us.”

She sighed, resting her head on his shoulder and closing her eyes. “Me too.”

* * *

The next morning, Anne stopped just outside the sitting room next to Amelie, who held a teacup in both hands, a fond expression on her face. Looking past her, Anne stifled a giggle and pulled out her phone.


	10. Christmas in the Trenches

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Opposite sides come together on Christmas Eve

He wasn’t sure what made him decide to come out here transformed tonight. Sometimes, transforming gave him a sense of power and strength – he could imagine that if he had had the miraculous last spring, none of this would have happened. Transforming was comforting in its own way. But not tonight. Now that he was out here, he could use the company. And he wasn’t planning to quake the bridge apart or anything like that – not on Christmas Eve. What would be the point? Night Bat had been pretty quiet for a while, and Lynchpin hadn’t asked him to create a distraction at the moment. He had promised Rexx that he wouldn’t, but even still the prospect – catharsis through destruction – still held some temptation for Tyran-X. After all, this was the first Christmas after his wife’s death.

His breath misted in front of his face, but he hardly noticed the cold. Staring down into the depths of the par-frozen Seine, his gloved hands clenched on the bridge railing so hard his fingers left gouges in the metal. Last Christmas, he and Béatrice had gone to visit her parents in the country for three days, and he had complained about it off and on for weeks beforehand. His parents lived closer, so why shouldn’t they spend the holiday with them, rather than waste all the gas just to spend half the day in the car? She had countered that _because_ his parents lived in the city, they saw them for almost every holiday, so why couldn’t they just spend one with hers? Of course he had given in and agreed. But most of the drive he had been sullen and resentful about taking the long trip outside the city on Christmas Eve, fighting through the traffic from a million other people trying to leave Paris. The three days in the countryside he had spent more time on his phone than participating. He hadn’t even enjoyed his mother-in-law’s pie – and she was one of the best bakers he knew! And thanks to him, Béa had been out of sorts on Christmas Day so she couldn’t enjoy the time with her family as much as she wanted.

Her last Christmas, and he had completely ruined it – and for what? “Having” to spend an extra hour alone in a car with the love of his life?

What a stupid thing to have been upset over.

“I’m sorry, babe,” he whispered to the river, blinking back the tears pooling at the corners of his eyes. “I’d spend _every_ holiday with your family, if it meant spending one more with you.”

“I wondered if I would find you here.”

Tyran-X spun around in shock. Not two minutes earlier, he had been completely alone on this bridge. His miraculous enhanced his hearing so well that he could hear traffic noise a kilometer away; how could someone have snuck up on him? He turned in every direction, eyes darting back and forth, searching for the intruder. But of course she was standing right in front of him, shivering slightly in her magenta bodysuit. His hand dropped to his lasso.

Bengalia arched an eyebrow at his reaction but didn’t deploy her claws. Instead, she raised one hand in a conciliatory gesture, holding a paper cup out to him, steam wafting up from the lid. Tyran-X didn’t take his hand off the lasso, but he didn’t draw it, either. He eyed her suspiciously, his hands still by his sides, tensed and ready for her attack.

She let out a quiet breath, standing more than an arm’s length away from him – inside his range, but outside of her own. “This year you hurt people I love,” she informed him curtly, staring him in the eye. “You nearly killed my girlfriend _twice_ , and thanks to your actions my sister almost died once. So I’ve got plenty of reason to want to fight if that’s what you _really_ want.” He took a step toward her but she shook her head once before she held the cup out again and continued, “But it’s Christmas, so I’d rather just talk if that’s alright with you.”

Tyran-X shrugged and accepted the cup, sniffing it suspiciously without taking his eyes off of Bengalia. Back when he first received the miraculous, Night Bat had explained that the miraculous’ magic afforded them some tolerance to poison while transformed. But although Rexx hadn’t been able to answer the question definitively, doubtless the so-called _heroes_ also knew that and would know of a way to compensate for their tolerance. And it would be just his luck if the heroes drugged and captured him on Christmas Eve. He pursed his lips, unsure what to do.

Bengalia rolled her eyes and groaned. “Oh, for the love of–” She took a sip from the cup in her hand, snatched back the cup she had given him, pressed her own cup into his hands, and took a long drink from the one she’d originally given to him. “It’s not _poison_ ; it’s _mint_.”

Reluctantly Tyran-X took a small sip from the cup in his hand, and his eyes lit up. “How did you know this was my favorite flavor of hot chocolate?” he asked, surprised.

She stifled a smirk. “Call it a lucky guess.” Leaning against the bridge railing next to him, she pulled out a bakery bag and offered him a sugar cookie shaped and decorated like Santa. “I’ve always liked this bridge,” she observed, looking around at the strings of white lights wrapping the wrought-iron railings, not seeming to notice the twisted metal directly in front of Tyran-X. “Even with the hustle and bustle of the city on all sides, this is like a little patch of peace. My girlfriend and I walk along the river all the time – it’s on the way to school.”

Tyran-X sighed heavily. “This bridge has always been special,” he told her quietly. “My wife lived on the other side of the river but worked on this side. This bridge was where we met. I was on my way home one night when I happened to see her standing under this streetlight, looking out over the water. Her hair was absolutely radiant in the yellow light; I couldn’t look away.”

“Was that when you asked her out?” asked Bengalia, sipping her hot chocolate.

He shook his head. “I wasn’t _that_ brave.” He chuckled, smiling wistfully. “It was actually the other way around: _she_ asked _me_ out! That didn’t happen until a week later. But we had dinner at the café over there, and then I walked her home across this bridge. I kissed her goodnight, and that’s when I knew that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her.” His throat closed up on the last word; he steeled himself against a sob.

“She sounds like she was a very sweet woman.”

Tyran-X’s nostrils flared and he clenched his fist, crushing a cookie into crumbs which sprinkled out of his hand and into the river. “She was,” he ground out, angrily. “And then your friends killed her.” He turned in a rage, his fist quivering by his side, glaring down at her. “You don’t get to talk about her!”

Bengalia held her hand up. “I get it,” she told him, her voice soft so he had to strain to hear her. “I get why you’re angry; I… I don’t know _what_ I would do if someone I love were killed.” She frowned, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “As it is, it almost killed me when two of those I love the most nearly died this summer. So I get your anger. I get why you do what you do. I get why you hate us so much. _I get it._ If I were in your shoes, I’d probably hate us, too – the way I _wanted_ to hate _you_ after what you did to Miss Pinky.”

Tyran-X let out a slow breath and nodded his acquiescence, slowly unclenching his fist and wiping the remaining crumbs off on his leg. Bengalia silently held out the bag for him to pick out another cookie. Throwing back the last of his hot chocolate Tyran-X crushed the cup and chucked it out into the water, as far as he could throw.

“You’d better not let Miss Pinky see you littering like that,” noted Bengalia, her voice laced with amusement. “She and Multiplice have been on a bit of an environmental kick lately.”

“Béa was like that, too.” His eyes narrowed when a dark shape on the river deviated from its path toward the discarded cup, using a wide paddle wheel to push the garbage through an opening at the waterline. “What–?”

“Pegasus designed it,” Bengalia explained, gesturing toward the object. “Garbage scow drones that trawl the river, pick up trash, and convert it into fuel or raw materials.” She giggled. “Now we’re fighting _normal_ trash, not just _human_ trash – um, no offense to your friends,” she added hastily. “Unless Night Bat is _actually_ your friend, in which case… all offense to him!”

He raised an eyebrow at her in challenge. “And what about me?”

She snorted. “You may be a lot of things, but ‘human trash’ isn’t one of them.” She looked out at the river, and he followed her gaze, watching the garbage drone motor along the river, moving back closer to the far bank. She was quiet for a minute. “The river is a lot cleaner now.”

He nodded. “Béa would be pleased.”

She sighed. “For what it’s worth, I am truly sorry for your loss. I’m sorry for my friends’ part in what happened. And I can tell you that Miss Pinky feels absolutely horrible about it.”

He clenched his eyes shut and pursed his lips. It still felt like only yesterday that he’d received the phone call that might as well have ended _his_ life. He could still hear her panicked voice, the terror as the flames drew closer… and then nothing. Some nights he still woke up in a cold sweat, the dream as real as if it had only just happened. At those times he was grateful for Rexx; in spite of their circumstances, the Kwami still curling up next to him on the pillow provided a soothing presence, a feeling of not being alone. After that first month of silence, he couldn’t imagine trying to do anything without Rexx.

Bengalia was still speaking. “Everyone understands why you’re angry,” she told him. “And we don’t want to fight you at all. If and when you are ready, I promise that we’ll help you get out of Night Bat’s control. But,” she added, her jaw set firmly and eyes narrowed, “if you ever hurt any of my friends again, I _will_ cut your head off.”

Tyran-X eyed her carefully and nodded. “Understood.”


	11. The Heroes of the World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Practically all the superheroes Ladybug and Cat Noir know are in their basement!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter includes pretty much everyone – at least the heroes. If you don’t know everyone, you’re not alone: neither does Marinette! The named characters are all in the [Wiki](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28649532), along with most of the unnamed ones. You can probably guess some of the unnamed characters from the descriptions.

Standing near the table of refreshments, Ladybug looked out over the enormous assemblage of miraculous users, Guardians, and other heroes who had come for their Christmas party. On the far side of the room, an Australian sorcerer and the young Shunjar stood on either side of Taureau Dechaine, who was arm-wrestling an Australian miraculous user in dark blue whom Ladybug had never met before. Joanne, one of the Australian Guardians, sat with Master Fu, Marianne, and an African Guardian, watching as Joey sparred lightly with King Monkey and an African miraculous user that Ladybug thought might be Angel. Amun-Vatar and Volpinax were talking to an African miraculous user near the grotto. Ayilon and Bengalia had found a spot along the far wall with an American Guardian and started playing Christmas carols together, the other man playing the piano while Bengalia played her guitar and Ayilon played the melody on her arm. Emilie, Amelie, and Hakɛto had claimed seats in the small lounge area by the portal rings, watching Marco play on the ground with Onça Feroz and another toddler who had arrived with the Australians. Looking around, Ladybug realized that she only recognized about a third of those present.

“Enjoying the party, Milady?” Cat Noir slid his arm around her waist and pressed a cup of punch into her hand. He kissed her forehead as she leaned into his embrace.

She nodded. “It’s just–did we really do _all_ of this? In one year?” she asked, wide-eyed. “This time last year we were still trying to understand that aliens actually _exist_ , and now we have a pair of aliens in our basement, eating my parents’ cookies!”

Cat Noir hummed in amusement. “I… suppose we did.” He chuckled. “No more quiet Christmases without anyone around, huh?”

She smiled warmly and planted a kiss on his lips. “Never,” she whispered, wrapping her arms around his neck, burying her fingers in his hair. “You’re _never_ going to have no one around again. I’m making sure of _that_!”

Ladybug caught a glimpse of tan and brown in her peripheral vision. “Public affection: how French.”

Ladybug met Cat Noir’s eye and smirked, catching his wink a moment before she hopped off the ground and wrapped her legs around his waist, moaning as his lips found her neck.

The same voice scoffed. “Don’t you have a bedroom for that? All right, all right, point taken. Now are you going to make me pull out a spray bottle, cuz?”

Cat Noir gave Ladybug one last playful nip before setting her back on her feet. “I have _meow_ idea what you could possibly mean,” he replied innocently. Ladybug stifled a giggle and turned to find the Hound staring at them with a dubious expression on his face.

“I’m sure,” the Hound deadpanned, arching an eyebrow. “And I’m the King of England!”

Cat Noir opened his mouth to retort, but Ladybug placed a finger on his lips. “Are you having a good time?” she asked, smiling.

The Hound nodded slowly. “I… suppose so,” he allowed. “There are so many people here – I didn’t think you could even _fit_ this many down here.” He nodded toward the middle of the room. “My two teammates certainly seem to be enjoying themselves.”

Ladybug followed his gaze toward two girls with red hair – Impératrice Pourpre and Bandruí – kneeling in the center of the butterfly garden as Bee-atrice chased butterflies around them. As she watched, Bandruí pressed her hand into the earth in front of her. A couple of flowers grew taller, put out leaves, and bloomed in seconds. Bee-atrice crouched down, hiding beneath the blooms with her tail wagging, until a butterfly approached. “We might need your sorceress–”

“–‘Druidess’,” the Hound corrected her.

“–‘ _Druidess_ ’,” Ladybug amended, rolling her eyes. “We might need her to repair some of the damage to the garden after everyone leaves.”

The Hound let out a snort, and Cat Noir burst out laughing. Ladybug cocked her head, staring at them bewildered. Cat Noir squeezed her waist. “I take it the pun we in- _fern_ -ed wasn’t im- _ply_ -ed, Milady?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“That seems like a _sage_ conclusion, judging from her _rosy_ cheeks!” the Hound commented wryly.

Ladybug groaned, covering her face with her hands. “I can’t believe it,” she groaned. Cat Noir snorted; she glared at him through her fingers. “You’re rubbing off on me!”

Cat Noir put a hand on the back of her head, hugging her to his chest. “There, there,” he consoled her. “ _Yew_ know _yew_ can’t _reed_ -sist the _flower_ of the pun!”

Ladybug fixed him with a withering stare and punched him halfheartedly in the chest. “Why do I put up with you?” she muttered, folding her arms and turning away from him. He wrapped his arms around her, resting his chin on her head as they scanned the rest of the party. Near the conference room door, Iron Maiden and Caravela were talking to Biladurang, the Platypus Miraculous holder, though Ladybug couldn’t hear any of their conversation. Iron Maiden’s helmet turned slightly to look in their direction, and out of the corner of her eye, Ladybug saw the Hound quirk an eyebrow at her. “It’s nice to see you actually making friends, Felix,” Ladybug told him, her lips turning up into a teasing grin.

“Bite me,” he retorted with a laugh.

“No, I’m good,” she shot back.

Cat Noir playfully bared his teeth. “This one’s taken; get your own!”

“Perhaps…” The Hound’s eyes darted across the room once more before he grabbed a plate from the end of the buffet table and started piling it with cookies and hors d’oeuvres. Munching on celery and hummus, he wandered off in the opposite direction, toward where Geber was in the middle of a conversation with O Patriota and another hero who had come with the Heroes of Lisbon.

Cat Noir swiped a handful of éclairs off the buffet and popped on in Ladybug’s mouth. She sighed in contentment as the mint-flavored cream exploded out of the pastry. Pressing a kiss to her lips, he raised an eyebrow, and she nodded, allowing him to steer her through the crowd with one hand on the small of her back. They sidestepped a trio of younger African miraculous users, one of whom wore a suit that appeared to be a mix between Cat Noir and the Hound – black with red highlights – and stopped by Sent-Bee and Rugindo Leoa, who gave Ladybug a quick hug. “Thank you for helping with the food tonight!” Ladybug told Rugindo Leoa, smiling. “I’ve never had mukua ice cream before!”

“Never?” Sent-Bee asked, raising an eyebrow. “I brought a whole tub back with me over the summer!”

Ladybug stared at her. “And you didn’t share!?”

Rugindo Leoa grinned. “You should try it with the _mousse de maracujá_ ,” she suggested. “It’s like a little piece of heaven! And thank _you_ for the scarf! I love the colors you picked out!”

“I’m glad you like it!” Ladybug replied. “Though I can’t imagine you need a scarf all that often…”

“You would think so, but…” Rugindo Leoa shrugged. “It can get cool at night. Especially when there’s a breeze off the ocean. Plus, it’s not like I’m stuck in Angola all the time anymore!”

Ladybug let out a relieved breath. “It was no problem; I just love knitting!”

“You should see her on an evening after dinner,” Lupa Gris interjected, putting a hand on Rugindo Leoa’s shoulder conspiratorially. “Whenever I see her these days, she’s knitting – doesn’t matter whether she’s watching a movie, reading a book… It’s like she eats, sleeps, and breathes yarn!”

Sent-Bee scoffed. “I would have thought that was _Cat Noir_ ’s thing!”

Ladybug eyed him fondly. “Please,” she retorted. “He would just tangle it all up.”

Sent-Bee smirked. “I can imagine.”

Cat Noir folded his arms in a pout. “I’m not as bad as Plagg,” he protested.

Ladybug raised an eyebrow at him before turning back to Rugindo Leoa. “Considering how many scarves I made for presents this year, I probably used more yarn in the last two months than the last two years put together!”

“I believe it,” Rugindo Leoa agreed, nodding. She chuckled. “I’ve said it before, but I need to say it again: thank you for bringing all of this together. Even though we knew there were other miraculous sets out there somewhere, we were all so wrapped up in our own problems that we never really considered trying to find them. But now, after finding you, we’re part of something bigger.”

“That hasn’t been _all_ on us,” Ladybug told her, glancing at Sent-Bee. “We owe a lot of that to Chloe. We couldn’t have done it without her.”

Sent-Bee blushed in embarrassment. “I’m just happy to help how I can.”

Cat Noir put an arm around her shoulders. “Chloe Bourgeois? Being helpful?” he teased.

“Don’t make a big deal of it, Agreste,” she grumbled, rolling her eyes.

Lupa Gris wrapped her arms around Rugindo Leoa and Ladybug. “I wish we could have met under better circumstances, _chica_ ,” she told Ladybug, blinking back tears, “but I’m glad I have you – both of you. Having friends and allies… not being the only ones with the weight of the world on our shoulders… It’s–it’s–” she sniffled. Ladybug patted her back. “ _Hormonas estúpidas_ ,” she muttered.

“We’re happy we found you all, too,” Ladybug assured them both. “After spending two years fighting Hawk Moth – practically on our own – it’s amazing to have friends we can rely on!”


	12. The Dupain-Chengs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sabine and Tom host Christmas dinner for the family

“Leave that plate under the warmer,” Sabine instructed, pointing to the stack of dishes on the counter. “I don’t want the jiaozi to get cold before they get here!”

“Yes, Mama,” Marinette replied obediently. She picked up the plates and carried them out to the tables. With eight guests today, their normal dining table just wasn’t enough, and Adrien had brought over a folding table from the Mansion. He had offered to just _buy_ them a new dining table, but Sabine had put her foot down: where were they supposed to store a three-meter wooden table for the 360-plus days out of the year that they _didn’t_ actually need it!?! For as much as she loved her soon-to-be-son-in-law’s generosity, he really could let it get out of hand.

“You have quite the spread here,” Emilie observed from the living room where she was filling water glasses. “The fusion of cultures is so much fun!”

Sabine smiled and checked on the roast pork in the oven. “At first I just wanted to have a taste of home at Christmas time,” she explained. “Then it just became a tradition to mix and match Chinese and French dishes. Some years we’ll have turkey and mashed potatoes; other years it’s pork and fried rice. But the two constants are my jiaozi and Tom’s bûche de Noël!”

“It just wouldn’t feel like Christmas if we didn’t have dumplings!” Marinette agreed as she collected the salad bowls and silverware.

“I don’t know, Princess,” Adrien called up the stairs. “I could just eat bûche de Noël all day!”

“With all the stories I’ve heard about it over the last month, I do hope there will be some left,” commented Emilie wryly. “I only got a taste the other week.”

Adrien climbed up the stairs with a tray of rolls fresh from the oven. “That’s not exactly up to me,” he noted. “I’ve had to chase Tikki and Duusu away a dozen times already!”

Plagg, who was sitting on the edge of the counter next to a cutting board, scoffed. “Of course they go for that sweet stuff.” He shrugged and grabbed a cube of cheddar. “More of the good stuff _fur_ me…”

Sabine glanced down and swatted him away. “You leave that cheese tray alone until the others arrive,” she chastised him.

“Pigtails, your mother is mean,” Plagg complained floating into the living room and settling on a lower branch of the Christmas tree, batting at a glass ball ornament.

“If that breaks, I’m making you clean it up,” Marinette warned him.

Sabine was just checking the broccoli on the stove when the doorbell rang downstairs. She transferred the broccoli into a serving dish and carried it out to the table, along with the platter of jiaozi and spring rolls. “That must be them!” she called. Marinette quickly took the broccoli from her to place on a cruet. “Adrien could you get the door while we finish up here?”

He nodded and started down the stairs. “I’ll get on that right _meow_.”

Sabine gave Emilie an amused look. “Was he always like this?” she asked.

Emilie chuckled. “When he was little he was making puns all the time – Gabriel encouraged it, even. Gabriel didn’t like it as much once Adrien started modeling, though. He wanted him to act a little more mature in the public eye.” She sighed. “I’m glad to see him so comfortable around here.”

“He is such a joy,” Sabine noted with an affectionate smile. She opened the oven to check on the pork again, this time checking the temperature. “What do you normally have for Christmas?” she asked curiously.

“Gabriel always wanted capon,” Emilie replied, smiling wistfully. “Capon, green bean casserole, and mashed potatoes. Of course, I grew up with Yorkshire pudding, so we had to have that!” She leaned over the platter of spring rolls and sniffed. “But I think we’ll have to add these to the menu from now on,” she decided.

Sabine grinned impishly. “Perhaps you should host Christmas dinner next year!”

Emilie laughed. “That would be fun,” she agreed. “I can’t remember the last time I cooked a feast like this. But only as long as you’ve taught your daughter to make these dumplings!”

“Please,” Marinette retorted, rolling her eyes. “I’ve been helping with Christmas dinner since I was four!”

Sabine hummed and eyed Marinette mischievously. “You know,” she observed slowly, giving Emilie a sidelong glance and raising an eyebrow, “thinking of next year… we could even have grandchildren on the way then!”

“Mama!” Marinette spluttered, flushing.

“Not to worry, sweetie,” Emilie assured her. She smirked at Sabine. “If that happens, I’m sure your mother and I can whip something up for Christmas dinner so you don’t have to cook the whole meal looking like you’re _smuggling_ the turkey!”

“Mom!” Marinette whined, eyes widening in shock, her face turning a deeper shade of red.

“I was lucky,” Emilie continued, smiling. “Adrien came in the fall, and I was back on my feet by the time the holidays hit.”

“Oh, it’s not _so_ bad,” Sabine added, placing a comforting hand on Marinette’s shoulder. “I was six months pregnant with you at Christmas, and I managed just fine. And you know, with a wedding in the summer, six months might not be _too_ far off for you…”

Marinette’s face had turned a brighter shade of red than her Ladybug suit – Sabine could swear her _hair_ was even starting to blush. Sabine shared a look with Emilie and they both broke down laughing, tears in their eyes.

“What did you _do_ to that girl?”

Sabine turned to the stairs to see Marianne, followed by Fu, and with the Gorilla’s massive form visible behind them. Marianne held a box of cookies which she placed on the countertop before moving over to the table to give Marinette a quick hug. “ _Joyeux Noël_ , dearie. How are you?”

“Other than having _two_ mothers picking on me… I’m well,” she replied, her face returning to normal as she glared at Sabine and Emilie. “ _Joyeux Noël_ , to you, too!”

“We’re just teasing you, sweetheart,” Sabine assured her, kissing her forehead. “We’re both just happy to see you and Adrien so happy together.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Marianne asked, looking around the dining room and kitchen.

“Oh, no, we have it all under control,” Sabine replied quickly, pulling the pork out of the oven and setting it on the counter to cool, waving her hand over it and spreading the scent through the room.

Emilie offered Marianne a wine glass. “You do so much already at the Mansion, you deserve to rest on Christmas,” she added.

“Oh, I insist,” Marianne said, sipping the wine. “I _can’t_ just watch you three do all the work!”

“All right,” Sabine relented. She handed her a flyswatter. “Can you keep Plagg away from the cheese tray?”

“Not funny!” called Plagg as he zipped out of the Christmas tree and rocketed past the cheese, grabbing for a piece of Brie as he passed. Marianne batted him away, but he phased through the flyswatter, sticking out his tongue and blowing a raspberry as he did so.

Fu hummed contemplatively, stroking his chin as he watched Marianne fend Plagg off. “Did your mother teach you how to imbue objects to prevent Kwamis from passing through them?” he asked Emilie.

“I don’t remember that particular lesson,” Emilie replied.

“That’s not a real thing!” Plagg objected, cramming a piece of camembert in his mouth and folding his arms.

Fu eyed him mischievously. “Isn’t it?”

Adrien slid around Gorilla, an enormous bûche de Noël in his hands. “I think Dad might need something like that downstairs,” he observed with a smirk, placing the platter on the counter. “Now that Dorreen _and_ Kheaa are in the kitchen with Tikki and Duusu, the two of us can’t actually keep them away from the macaroons!”

Sabine chuckled. “Those macaroons were actually to keep the Kwamis occupied,” she whispered conspiratorially. “If they go after the macaroons, that means they’ll leave the marrons glacés alone!”

“We may have underestimated just how many macaroons a flock of starving Kwamis can actually _eat_ ,” Tom boomed from the stairwell. He placed a bowl of marrons glacés in the center of the table. “They already finished off all four batches; I thought it would be safer to bring these up here!”

Fu shook his head, rubbing his temples. “I swear Kheaa and Dorreen both ate before we left…”

“I’m sorry,” squeaked Tikki, phasing through the floor and looking mildly repentant. Duusu, Dorreen, and Kheaa followed her. “Your goodies are just too good to resist!”

“Absolute _purr_ -fection!” Dorreen agreed. “A real _treat_!”

“Well, it _is_ Christmas,” Sabine allowed. She hummed thoughtfully. “Could we use that as our new advertising slogan? ‘Kwami Approved’?”

Gorilla chuckled.

“Is everything ready?” Emilie asked, surveying the table.

Sabine nodded as Tom carried the enormous platter of roast pork over to the table. Marinette set a variety plate of macaroons, cheese, fruit salad, and pork on a dollhouse table at one end of the larger table, and the Kwamis swarmed around it. Once everyone had taken their seats, Sabine looked around with a warm smile and suggested, “I think we should each say what we’re thankful for this Christmas.”

Emilie nodded in agreement. “There’s just so much to be thankful for,” she observed slowly. “I’m so happy to be awake again and to have all of you in my life.”

Duusu clapped his hands enthusiastically. “That’s what I’m thankful for, too!” he squealed. “My miraculous is fixed and I have my favorite holder back!”

Plagg snorted. “You think they’re _all_ your favorite holder, Bird-Brain.”

Adrien looked at Emilie and smiled before turning his gaze on Marinette. “I’m happy to have all of you in my family.”

Gorilla nodded to Dorreen, who giggled. “Gorilla’s thankful for _me_!” she squeaked. “And I must say, it’s _gor_ -reat to be with other Kwamis again!”

Kheaa nodded solemnly. “I would agree with Dorreen: I’m thankful that my miraculous was found and I’m back with a Guardian after so long.”

Fu smiled at the Kwami table. “I am thankful that our Temple has been restored and I am no longer the sole Guardian in our Order.”

“I’m thankful for all of my friends – old and new,” Marinette said, squeezing Adrien’s hand.

Tom hummed. “I think I’m thankful for the snow,” he decided. Sabine gave him a look, and he sniffed, wiping a tear from his eye. “It’s nice to have another Christmas like old times… what with our baby growing up so much that this is her last Christmas living with us.”

“It’s not that far, _Papa_ ,” Marinette assured him, though Sabine could see her lower lip trembling. Sabine quietly dabbed her own tears with her napkin.

“They grow up so fast,” Marianne noted with a wistful smile. “For myself, I am simply thankful for a moment of peace, after Wang and I were separated for so long.”

Plagg picked up a piece of cheese. “I suppose for now all I have to be thankful for is this last, lonely piece of Roquefort,” he announced, before shoving the cheese in his mouth.

“And whose fault is that?” Tikki asked, raising an eyebrow at him. “Honestly…” She sighed. “I’m thankful that we have a home now, after so long on the run. And that we don’t have to hide. And that we’re finding all our lost friends.”

“That just leaves you, dear,” Tom noted, taking Sabine’s hand in his own.

She smiled. “I’m thankful that, even with all of the changes this year has brought, I can still have my family here with me at Christmas!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This seems like a good place for this Christmas anthology to conclude. In March. Less than three weeks before Easter. Ahem. Tomorrow I’ll have another one-shot that technically takes place during “Tokyo: Time and Again.” Then on Wednesday that story will begin.


End file.
